


Lead Me Into Temptation

by JulesTheQuirky



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Escape, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Freedom, Kissing, Male-Female Friendship, Masturbation, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Strict Parents, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulesTheQuirky/pseuds/JulesTheQuirky
Summary: The crush on your older next door neighbour is already established, your parents throw you a curveball when they’re almost out the door, leaving for their holiday.





	1. Chapter 1

He was your neighbour. He was almost double your age. And you repeated that mantra to yourself all the time but damn he knew how to tease the hell out of you.

You watched him from your bedroom window as he worked outside. You didn’t know what he was making but God was that man talented. Last year for your 24 th  birthday he had made you a sweet little horse charm on a black leather thong with a simple clasp. You wear it all the time, except on Sundays. Sunday’s you changed it for your crucifix. Sunday was Church day and you had to go. Your parents made you as you still lived with them.

You didn’t mind it though. They were nice. Sometimes a little too devout but you kept it a secret from them that you didn’t share the same faith.

Maybe God was real. Maybe he wasn’t. All you knew you shouldn’t be having _those_ kind of thoughts about your neighbour. 

“Y/N!” Your mother’s yell pulled you from your thoughts.

“Coming!” You answered and tore your gaze from your handsome neighbour.

You headed down to where your parents were standing in the hall with suitcases and hand luggage. Right, your parents holiday. You had forgot because of that man.

“Ya’ll set, I take it?”

“Oh, honey, you sure you’re gong to be okay for a few days without us?”

You nodded.

“Of course, Ma.”

“I asked Misha to check in on you everyday. I’m sure you’ll be fine, but just for precaution.”

Holy Jesus. She did what now?

You hid your surprise from her.

“Oh?”

“You sound displeased.” She pursed her lips.

Quick, sound grateful.

“No, Ma, it’s okay. I love that you’re looking out for me, but I’m almost 25, Ma.”

“Well until you find a nice man and settle down, goodness knows you need a nice church going man. What about Mike?”

“Have a nice time. I love you.”

You hugged your parents and they walked out the door into the bright sunshine.

“Don’t forget church on Sunday!” Your mother shouted as you stood in the doorway waving them off. “I’ll be checking in to see what Pastor Jim talked about.”

Damn. You had hoped to skip it. They packed the luggage in the trunk and got in the old run down Chevy.

Their car reversed out the driveway and you watched as they drove away.

You sighed and closed the door.

You had 7 whole days away from your parents. You retired back to your room and pouted when your hunk of a neighbour was nowhere to be seen.

Your hand subconsciously went to the charm at the end of your necklace and held it, your thumb stroking the wood. The back and forth motion calmed you.

The door knocked and you jumped and ran down calling out before whoever was on the other side left. You pulled back the door a little breathless.

Your neighbour stood before you. His lopsided grin made your heart quicken. He looked good in an old ripped t-shirt and jeans.

“Misha.”

“Did I take your breath away?” He teased.

If only he knew.

“God, no, I thought it was someone else.” You laughed quickly covering with a lie.

He gasped.

“A guy? Perhaps? Y/N bringing in boys once her parents have left, tut tut, what a rebel.”

You couldn’t hide the blush that tinged your cheeks.

“Yeah, right. I wish.” You mumbled. Your hand went to your neck and rubbed it.

His blue eyes twinkled at you and he rocked back and forth on his feet.

“Oh, you wanna come in?” You asked, mentally smacking yourself for forgetting your manners.

“Only if it’s okay with you, I mean wouldn’t want to get in the middle of what you have planned.”

He meant with a guy.

“Haha. Get your butt in here, Mr Collins.”

He smiled and laughed once and walked in, brushing past you. Your throat closed and you had to fight to keep yourself standing.

You closed the door and headed into the kitchen, feeling Misha follow you.

“Drink?” You asked.

“Tell me you still have home made lemonade?”

“I sure do.” You answered a smug smile tugging at your lips.

He groaned. The sound went straight to places it shouldn’t.

You walked over to the fridge and had to stand on your tiptoes to reach for the jug covered with cling film. You couldn’t quite reach it, the tips of your fingers just brushing the handle.

“Here. Let me.”

Misha stood behind you, his hand reached up and grabbed the jug. You turned round to him smiling. He passed it to you.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, short stack.”

Dammit. You sidestepped away and went to grab a glass. Thankfully these were in your reach. You poured him a glassful and gave yourself the rest.

You put coasters on the authentic wooden kitchen counter. You loved it to bits. Your mother had commissioned it from Misha.

“Ooh zingy. Just the way I like it.”

Suddenly it was quiet and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Awkwardness crawled over you and you willed yourself to say something. Anything.

“Tell me you’re going to behave when I check in on you, don’t wanna have to be calling your mother and saying otherwise.” He smirked.

“What if I don’t?” You sassed.

You didn’t know where it had come from. Your boldness shocked you.

“Then I shall have to ground you.” He said with all seriousness.

 _I’d like to see him try._ You thought.

“No TV, no WiFi, no phone.”

You snorted. Uh huh.

“You’re not like that, I know,” He said taking a sip of lemonade. “You’re a good Christian girl.”

Why oh why had he said that. Now you wanted to tell him wrong. To tell him that you could be bad. To tell him you didn’t share the same faith as your parents. To show him the secret little toy you once bought. But instead you just smiled at him.

He downed his beverage and the face he pulled after had you giggling.

“Little sour at the end there.”

“I know. It settles at the bottom. I’m trying, but I still haven’t figured it out.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it.” he smiled and stood up. He stretched. Immediately you put your head down but couldn’t help glimpsing the golden skin and defined V lines of his hips. Your throat became dry and almost straight away your body ached with a need.

“I should get back.”

You nodded.

“Don’t wanna interrupt those plans of yours too much.” he winked and headed for the door. You chased after him and opened the door.

“Have yourself a nice day, Mr Collins.”

He smiled.

“You too, miss.”

He walked out of your house, down your path and began to whistle. He turned away and you couldn’t see him no more. You closed your door and leaned against it. This was gonna be one long week.


	2. Chapter 2

You laid there on your bed, chest rising and falling in rapid pace, sweat glistening, your breath heavy, heart pounding as you came down from your high.

You moved the vibrator away from between your legs over to one side to clean up later. A thought occurred to you as you looked over to the open window.

Had he heard you? You hadn ’ t been overly loud. But you had been a little louder than usual as your parents were away. You sat up abruptly worried. You craned your neck to see over the fence separating your houses. You couldn’t see him, but he was more than likely in his workshop. You hoped to God.

Half an hour later and you were smelling fresh and dressed, vibrator hidden safely away, stuffed under many layers. You heard the familiar rumble of a car turn into a driveway and went to investigate. It was Misha ’s Pimpmobile. A smile upturned your lips. In actual fact it was 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V in jubilee gold. It wasn’t his only car, you knew cause he had a 1969 Dodge Charger in cardinal red with a white racing stripe down the middle. God that car was a beauty. You had had many fantasies about that car and Misha Collins. 

He stopped and stepped out, leaning down to pick up groceries across the seat. You groaned at the view of his ass. Jesus. He was gonna be the death of you. 

Your phone pinged. You averted your gaze to whoever had messaged you.

It was Mike. You closed your eyes. You had forgot. You had promised to practice the hymns with him. You quickly tapped out a message back to him agreeing to meet at three and not to forget his guitar.

At three, Mike came round the back and walked into the conservatory. You were already at the piano tinkling with the ivories. 

Unbeknown to you, Mike had piqued Misha’s interest and he was peering over the fence looking into the fully glass conservatory. The doors and windows were wide open and he could hear you play. He knew the tune well. AC/DC’s Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had no idea, but you weren’t what you seemed and he loved it.

“Nice, what song is that?” Mike asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just messing around.” you dismissed.

Over the fence, Misha couldn’t hide his annoyance. Figured he didn’t know what decent music was.

Mike pulled his guitar over him and Y/N grabbed the sheet music from the side and sifted through the pages to get the right one.

“How Great Thou Art, 3, 2, 1.” You nodded counting down the beats and your fingers started the beginning melody into the great hymn.

Mike then accompanied you and you started to sing. 

Your voice wasn’t what he expected. Your sweet and innocent appearance demeanour should have complimented your voice. Your voice had a rock vibe to it. It shocked people. You tried your best to sing softer but it still had that rock grit to it.

You rested after the song before going straight into In Christ Alone.

One more song left you told yourself. This was the only way you could sing without anyone questioning your song choices. Your parents were proud of you. You had excelled in music and mechanics. Two complete opposites but you had loved them both equally. 

Motors and music that was your thing. But your mother had put a stop to that. She had said future husbands didn’t like women with dirt ingrained in their skin and under their nails.

After the third and final song you closed the piano lid, putting the sheet music away. Mike’s hand shot out and pulled out the Aerosmith sheet music.

He cocked his head and you had to bite your tongue, stopping yourself from telling him what you really wanted. 

“I didn’t know you liked rock.”

He flicked through it.

“It’s my neighbours.” You lied.

“Oh,” He looked at the back. “Shouldn’t you give it back?”

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to.”

You had forgot to hide it upstairs.

“Let’s do that now.” 

And before you could do anything he was out of your house and heading over to the 4 foot fence. Oh my God. You ran over as he called Mr Collins over. You watched as he walked out, wiping his hands on an already filthy rag. He saw you and smiled. He turned his attention to Mike. He was wearing another old and tattered t-shirt. 

The way he stood had your mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert. It really was unethical of you to be that in too deep. He was almost 20 years older than you, for Christ’s sake! You had tried. And failed. 

“Mr Collins, I believe this belongs to you.” Mike said and handed over your Aerosmith music book.

Misha took it and looked at it quizzically, then looked up to see your face. Something told him you didn’t want your parents finding out. You were asking him to keep a secret. 

Misha smiled at Mike and thanked him, thanked you for returning it to him.

“I had forgot about this.”

You nodded, relieved. He was a good liar. You couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

You lead Mike out the back gate and saw him off. Mike was lovely. He had that whole clean and wholesome look about him, which would have been great but you weren’t interested in good devout pretty boys, but he was also intrusive and you hated that about him. 

Your legs felt unsteady as you walked back to Misha. He smiled and wiped the condensation from the can over his perspiring skin. The sound of the tab popping open on the can pulled you to reality but when he drank your mind sang praises. 

He propped the beer down and gave you his full attention.

“Aerosmith and AC/DC. Is that what all the good girls listen to nowadays?” he asked with a teasing grin.

You blushed. God. You had to learn to stop blushing at everything he said.

“Cause last time I heard, that’s what the bad girls listened to. Are you secretly a bad girl, Y/N?” His voice dropped to a whisper and leaned closer to you.

You stuttered. He winked and you felt your whole body weaken.

“I’m not like the other girls at church, Mr Collins.”

“I bet you’re a breath of fresh air. I’m sure your boyfriend knows that.”

You gave him a strange look.

“The guy you had over.” he prompted.

“Oh. No he’s not my boyfriend. We were just practising for Sunday. We’re on the worship team.”

He nodded. 

“He doesn’t look like he could give you want you want anyway.” He said offhand.

You almost choked on your breath. 

“And what do I want?” You asked.

He looked at you properly then and you felt his blue orbs touch your soul.

“Experience. Someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who can make you sin just by looking at them. Someone who will put your pleasure first and draw it out. Nice and slow.” He smirked after and handed you your book back.

You gulped. You had a thousand sins in your head. All of them with him in mind.

Misha ticked all those points off. Now all you could think about was him drawing out your pleasure. Nice and slow. He turned away from you and picked up his beer. God you wanted to be that can touching his lips. His swagger had your eyes travelling down to his hips and butt. Your eyes followed as he made his way back to his workshop


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader helps out Misha bag up clothes for charity.

You had never been to Misha’s house and now you were in his bedroom. Your mother had been the one to give word that you’d help out. You had rescheduled your Saturday worship practice with Mike. It was hella hot outside and you were glad to be inside Misha’s cool house. Thankfully it wasn’t pumping out cold air enough to make it feel like Arctic weather. It was just right.

It definitely wasn’t boyish. It was neutral, but not beige. Beige was boring. He had a king size bed with a patchwork quilt on top. Misha’s room was the same size as your parents and they had a modest sized closet built in.

On shelves you noticed pictures in frames of him at various times of his life.

You didn’t know what to do. This was your first time in anyone’s bedroom. First time in a man’s bedroom.

“I’m back.”

You were unprepared for his entrance and jumped out of your skin and you yelled out.

“Jesus!!”

Your heart hammered and you clutched your chest.

He smiled and chuckled his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, then rubbed your back in a tender manner.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I promise I’m not that scary. Though if you feel you need to carry mace around with you for unprepared sudden neighbour attacks I understand.”

He was teasing you. He mimed you macing him and him going down from the attack in the most dramatic fashion.

You rolled your eyes at him but laughed shaking your head. What a drama queen.

He got up to his knees with a groan and held out his hand.

“Help an old man up would ya?”

He pierced you with his bright blue eyes and gave you a puppy dog stare. Your heart clenched and your stomach flipped. Did he not know what he was doing to you?

“You’re not old, Misha.” Your voice had gone a little breathless.

You berated yourself for that.

He pouted his lips, but stood up.

Hair flopped over his forehead and your hand reached out as if to place it back, but you caught yourself in time and pulled your hand back down to your side. Your hands grabbed the folds of your dress and you  clenched them. You couldn’t believe you had almost done that. He was your neighbour. He was older than you! You repeated this to yourself but Misha’s teasing smile quietened your thoughts.

“Lets get this underway, shall we?”

He brushed past you to get to his closet. He pulled open the doors and you were amazed by how many clothes he had in there. He turned back to you and saw you wide eyes.

“I know, I know.”

How could one man possibly have so many clothes.

“I have a little confession.”

You turned to him. He was giving you the puppy dog eyes again. Honestly, that man was going to be the death of you.

“I may have or may not have ever been through my closet.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb.

“Like ever?” You asked once you had opened your eyes.

He shook his head slowly intensifying the puppy eyes.

Damn him. Like you could say no to him. You couldn’t. Now you realised why your mother had said it would take all day.

He grabbed a ton of clothes and threw the load of clothes on the bed.

“Feel free to grab anything. You might know someone who’d like it.”

You opened the bin liner with a flourish and Misha started taking clothes off hangers and putting them in the open black bag, occasionally setting clothes to one side.

*

You were five bags deep and you flopped in an empty chair.

“Giving up so easily?” Misha teased.

You shook your head.

“I’ve never seen one person with so many clothes before.” You commented.

He gave you a bashful smile.

“I’m just gonna need a moment.” You said.

He nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He said and left you alone.

You rested for a minute before getting back up and heading over to his closet. You looked at the next article of clothing. It was a grey AC/DC t-shirt with the band name in red, outlined in silver. Subconsciously you took it off the hanger and put it against you. The fabric was soft underneath your fingertips. You picked up a pair of Misha’s sunglasses and put them on, posing in front of the mirror. You looked hot. You pulled your hair up in a messy bun, pouted your lips and posed.

“You can keep those if you want.”

 You whirled round, sunglasses still on, t-shirt against your body, mouth open in an O. He was holding a tray with refreshments on .

Misha willed his body to not react. Fought his body so hard his grip on the tray handles hurt and turned his knuckles white. You looked so damn good with his sunglasses on, hair pulled up. He could see himself giving away every t-shirt he owned to you. But he didn’t. Wild strands of your hair hung down framing your face. He loved that you looked like a child being caught in bad behaviour.

“I made refreshments.” He said.

He watched as you didn’t meet his eyes, a blush creeping into your cheeks.

“And I got cakes.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. He had you then. You took off the sunglasses and put them back where you found them. Misha found himself putting the tray down on the bedside table, and walked to you. He picked up the sunglasses you had just put down.

“Really, you can have them,” He slid them onto your face. “You look better in them than I do, anyway.”

His hands rested on your shoulders and he spun you back around. He picked up the t-shirt you had let drop and held it against you. He tilted his head. Your own hands held the top as one of his decided to hold the t-shirt by your hip.

“Do you plan on making all the guys go crazy?” He asked.

“Just one.” You said without thinking.

His eyebrows quirked up and he smiled knowingly. His hand on your hip sent tremors down to your core.

“Ohhh, you gonna fill me in?” His voice went an octave lower.

His closeness was making you go haywire. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t do anything.

You shook your head.

“Aw, that’s a shame.” he said in your ear.

The ringing of your phone broke you apart, pulling you from your almost dreamlike state. and you walked to your bag, rummaging through it until you grabbed your phone. Misha sipped on what looked like ice-tea. You answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, where are you? I’m outside, no one is answering.”

It was Mike.

“Didn’t you get my message? I texted to rearrange. I’m helping out my neighbour.”

“I got a new number. Did you forget I told you?” He asked.

Misha’s lips on the glass tumbler distracted me for a moment.

“Y/N?”

“Uh. Sorry. Yeah I forgot. Ill be done soon.”

You ended the call abruptly after. God, Mike was a pain. You knew he meant well and you were sure he hadn’t told you about the new number.

You rubbed your face and put your new items down.

“Boy trouble?” Misha asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Ha ha. And no. Just,” You thought of a way to say it, wrinkling your nose. “Mike trouble.”

“Oh him. I’m surprised he doesn’t know who Aerosmith are.”

You wandered over to the tray and picked up a drink.

“His whole family are devout. Ain’t no way he’s gonna know who Aerosmith are. He probably has never even heard of Abba.” You commented and drank.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Misha said.

You bit into your cake and refrained from groaning. It was delicious. Pure candy bliss. But Misha did. Misha watched your eyes close in pleasure as you bit into the sweet treat. His tongue swiped at his lips and he looked away briefly.

“He likes you, you know.” Misha said offhand.

You looked at him, a mouth full of cake, eyes wide. He nodded.

“Why else would he spend that much time with you?”

You swallowed.

“My mother has expressed her interest in us.” You said pulling a face.

“You don’t want Mike, huh?”

You shook your head.

“What do you want?”

You bit your lip, debating. You shook your head and smiled.

“Come on, I wont bite. Unless you want me to.”

Was he flirting with you? No. You shook it off and out it down to Misha being Misha.

You opened your mouth to tell him and your phone began to ring. You apologised and grabbed it. It was Ma.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Y/N, honey, Mike has been waiting outside. For you. He called me.”

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling. Damn that little snitch.

“I know, Ma. But I did rearrange, but he got a new number.”

“I know.”

And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice peaked a little.

“Y/N Y/L/N, don’t you back talk me.”

“I’m sorry, Ma.”

“Look, I know you were helping Mr Collins out today, but it’s time for worship practice.”

“Yes, Ma.”

Ma hung up and you physically groaned.

“You have to go, don’t you?” he asked.

You nodded.

“I understand.”

“Worship practice.” You said bitterly.

You folded the t-shirt and put it inside your bag. You slipped the sunglasses inside too.

“If you don’t want to do it, you should say.”

“Misha,” You didn’t know how to say it. “I’m not quite there yet. Plus it would break her heart.”

He nodded and saw you out. You turned round and gave him a small wave. He winked at you. You faced forward and walked to Mike who was waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the Readers birthday and Misha’s gift is somewhat of a surprise.

The purr of the car was too distinctive. It was your baby and you rushed out to see Misha cut the engine and step out. His face lit up in a huge grin.

“I’m starting to think you only come to see my cars and not little old me.”

“Come off it, Collins. Besides you’re not that old.” You said, your hand delicately tracing the edge of the Dodge Charger.

“You sure about that?”

You looked back to Misha and pulled your hand back to your side. His smile was teasing and knowing. You couldn’t help it, whenever he brought this car around you were drawn. A moth to a flame. Her cardinal chrome work made your mouth water and you wanted to get under her hood to see what made her really run.

You could hear your mother’s words inside your head. Red represented the devil, the original tempter, bringer of sin. Red was associated with whores and sluts, the red light district. It was also the colour of desire. Red was passionate and heady. It was lust and sex. To you, red had always been an incredibly good FUCK. It was sexy. It was dirty and naughty and raunchy.

And she was. A temptuous beast that made you ache to get behind her wheel, to smell the leather and feel her vibrations go through your body as she started up. You loved every inch of her. From the top, down to her authentic muscle tyres. You kinda reminded yourself of Arnie in Christine.

A ‘FOR SALE’ sign obstructed your view and your heart plummeted.

“You’re selling her?!” You didn’t mean to sound panicked, but you couldn’t help it. A classic like this would be snapped up in an instant.

He nodded.

“I want someone to love her as much as I did.”

You looked at him.

You wanted this car. There was no doubt about that. And you’d do ANYTHING . You’d sell your soul if you could. That was just how much you loved this car. But you could never afford a beauty like this. And your mother would never allow it.

Misha leant on one side, his fingers splaying on his hip, fingers on his chin and you watched as they tapped his plump bottom lip. He had that look about him. Something was going on in his mind.

“Isn’t it your birthday today?”

You nodded.

“Twenty five. I remember when I was that age. That was a while ago…”

Misha opened the drivers side door and gestured for you to get in. Was he serious? Your legs wobbled a little as your foot stepped into the interior of your dream car.

Inside, it was just as beautiful as the body. You didn’t know where to put your hands. The leather was warm and slightly worn. He had kept in damn good condition. You wrapped your hands around the wheel and you felt it.

This was your car.

It had to be.

Misha closed your door snapping you out of your daydream. He got in the passenger side and you heard the close of his door. Suddenly you were aware it was just the two of you alone.

“Why don’t you take her for a spin?”

Jesus fucking Christ. This was turning into one hell of a birthday.

Your hands touched when he handed you the keys. You felt a spark and a flutter in your abdomen. His hand was warm and calloused and also larger than yours. He fitted yours perfectly. You swore his hand lingered just a second longer. You longed for his hands to touch you all over. Flashes of images assaulted you. You had to hold your breath and willed them to stop. Now was not the right time to dwell on those thoughts.

You put the key into the ignition and turned it.

She rumbled and roared to life. Her hum reverberated through you and you knew at that moment what Eve must have felt when she took the first bite of that apple. Adrenaline coursed through your body and you felt all sorts of delicious things. At that moment you knew what it was to be bad.

Energy buzzed your blood and you felt charged. A little smile turned curved your lips. The Dodge Charger purred. You set the car in reverse and eased your foot on the gas.

You groaned internally. She rolled out of Misha’s garage and onto the driveway. Changing gears was a breeze and you were on the black top cruising with nowhere to go.

“Where to?” you asked.

“Where ever you want. It’s your birthday.” He smiled.

Misha’s cologne permeated the small area of the car. You breathed him in doing your best to concentrate on the road. Being beside Misha in such close proximity had you on edge.

The car was a dream to drive. It was torture knowing you had had just a taste and it would all be taken from you a little too soon.

You had the perfect idea of where to go. You turned the car around and headed to the ranch. Misha rolled open the window and put on his sunglasses. His hair ruffled in the wind. He turned on the radio and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama perforated the silence. You sung along to the familiar lyrics. From the corner of your eye you saw Misha’s lips curve into a smile.

“C’mon Mish’.”

Your fingers tapped on the wheel in time to the music. And then you heard it. Misha’s voice as rich and luxurious. You had to bite your lip.

You looked at him.

“You dog!”

He laughed.

“You can talk, missy. You can sing too! I heard you the other week. With that kid, Miles.”

“Mike.” You corrected.

“Rock suits you.” he complimented.

You smiled. You loved rock. Classics always won out over anything else.

Seeing your face, Misha knew he couldn’t sell the car.

He was a grown ass man, and you were almost twenty years younger, but he couldn’t explain the emotions you stirred up under his skin. He didn’t know what it was about you, but he couldn’t get you out of his head.

Maybe it was because you dressed in floral summer dresses, looking so country chic and innocent. Too pure to be running through his mind.

Or maybe it was the way you ever so subtly flirted with him. A flip of the hair, a bite of your lower lip. The way your body turned toward him, throwing feisty lines at him. He loved it when your cheeks tinged pink.

Maybe it was because he could see you were dying to break free from your parents. Break away from the church.

He didn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was because you looked like you had been slapped when you saw the ‘FOR SALE’ sign. When you sat inside he knew he couldn’t sell it. Not when you looked like you had found the naughtiest secret on earth. You were positively seductive sitting at the wheel of his car.

Handing the keys over, he knew you fitted this car. You and this car produced thought provoking images, usually together. With him involved.

He tried not to watch you drive. Tried and failed. Every time your hand went to the gear stick his mouth went dry and when your thumb stroked over the round head he had to force himself to think of other things. More innocent things.

He wondered how much longer this dance would last. You both skirted around each other, and if his inkling was right, you liked him too. It was difficult and complicated. You were twenty five. As of today. Your parents were devout Christians and so were you according to them.

He knew, could feel your struggle when it came to your faith, or lack of. You wanted to be free. He wished he could help, but he knew he couldn’t get involved, it wasn’t his business.

But he could tempt you . Tease you. Torture you in a way that would lead you to the right decision.

Giving you this car would be a step in the right direction.

You pulled up to the ranch and waved as you saw Kelly, one of the ranch hands. She waved you through and you parked.

This place was beautiful. It was the best working ranch in Colorado. Set out in rural country, you could lose yourself for days here and you did. Being an ex ranch hand you knew the place like the back of your hand.

“A ranch. Didn’t you used to work here?” Misha asked.

You nodded.

“Yeah. But my Ma wanted me to get work closer to home. I didn’t mind it here. I loved it and I didn’t mind the drive.”

You stepped out the car and breathed in the fresh country air. You locked up once Misha had got out. He went round to the trunk of the car and opened it. You watched somewhat puzzled. He pushed the trunk down and you saw a picnic blanket. He smiled and walked the short distance to you. You gave him the keys to the car and together you walked towards the retreat entrance.

You were greeted and welcomed warmly by the manager, Zeke. He hugged you like an old friend.

“Be still my beating heart. Is Miss Y/L/N asking for her old job back?”

You shook your head and his expression saddened a little.

“Well if you ever want it back, you know where I am. Anyway what can I do for you today?”

“I just wanted to see the ranch, with my friend if that’s okay with you, Zeke?”

Zeke smiled and nodded then looked to Misha shook his hand.

“You’re in the best possible hands here, better than mine. She knows the land back to front, best, top ranch hand, had a way with animals and people. Everyone loved her.”

Misha smiled and thanked Zeke. Zeke grabbed a ranch hand and whispered something in their ear.

Some minutes later the same ranch hand came back holding a picnic basket.

“Just a little something from me and the rest of us.”

You took the basket and could barely hold it, Misha took it from you and you tried not to look his muscles bunching.

“You didn’t have to do that, Zeke.”

“I know, but you’re a joy to have around.”

You felt heat creep into your cheeks and you smiled, looking down. You felt Misha’s had touch yours, bringing you to look up as you felt your heart beat flurry in your chest. He smiled at you. You thanked Zeke and together you walked out onto the ranch grounds.

You walked with Misha for a little while until you found your favourite spot.

You stopped and Misha unfolded the blanket, laying it out on the ground. He set the basket down and you sat down.

You admired the scenic, peaceful country view. Zeke had given you a plentiful spread.  

“They love you here. Its like being with someone who’s famous.”

You laughed.

“Not quite.” You ate from the basket. “I enjoyed my job. I enjoyed working with the animals. I enjoyed serving the customers. But sometimes good things have to come to an end.”

Misha was quiet for a moment.

“Do you enjoy your job now?”

You looked down.

“Not really. I mean there’s lots of enjoyable aspects.”

“Like?”

“Helping customers. Aiming for perfection.”

“But its not the same is it.”

“There’s no animals. No land, the freedom to roam and it’s not exactly scenic.”

“I’ve walked in and seen you working. You don’t look like you enjoy it. And clearly your old manager adores you.”

You blushed.

“He’s the best.”

“So… what’s stopping you from getting your old job back?”

You sighed. To be honest you didn’t know. You didn’t want to upset your parents.

“I love my parents, but I think I don’t want to step on their toes, plus I still live with them I have to do what they say. And I am totally scared of disobeying them.”

Misha nodded and looked ahead.

“If they love you,

They won’t change you.

If they love you,

They won’t break your wings.

They won’t cage you,

Or stop you from flying.

If they love you, they will actually

Love

You.”

You looked at him and he smiled. You understood what he was saying. You shouldn’t be afraid to be yourself. You smiled at him.

“Not just made of jokes, I have a sensitive side too.”

“Something you wrote?”

“No. Credit has to go to Najwa Zebian. I like her poetry. I like other poets too, but that one called out to me.”

You liked Misha’s sensitive side. It warmed your heart and filled you up.

“I know it may be daunting and scary, and overthinking can make it feel and look so much worse, but you should never be afraid to be who you are. Once you take that leap, you’ll feel so much better. You’ll feel free. You’ll be able to accomplish anything you want. I have absolute faith in you.”

“Does that include breaking my parents hearts?” You looked at him.

“Your parents should love you unconditionally.”

It was the truth, you just didn’t know if your mother would forgive you.

“In hopes of you becoming the person you want to be. I think it will bring you out of your shell, and because it’s your birthday,” He leaned to one side and dug in his back pocket bringing out the Dodge’s keys. He held them out to you. “It’s all yours.”

You stared at the keys like they were made from gold. The tips of his fingers closed my mouth and you looked at him.

He closed your hand around the car keys.

“You can breathe now.”

You realised you hadn’t and snapped out of it. You looked down and opened your hand. They were there. Real. In your palm. Yours.

“Thank you.” You were breathless from shock.

Reality hit you fast. There was no way your mother would allow such a gift. And you had no idea how much her upkeep was.

Misha saw your face drop a little. He acted without thinking. He grabbed your hands and you looked up.

“I’ll let you store the car at mine until you feel ready. And we can work this out.”

He ignored the heavy thudding of his heart. Ignored the lust growing in his gut and loins. Ignored the how hot his skin began to get as his thumbs stroked the back of your hands.

His heart skipped when he saw a slip of a smile.

“Thanks Mish’”

It wasn’t right. His stomach ached knowing he could never be with you. He could see your mothers reaction and it kicked him in the gut how real it felt. Her little girl with a man old enough to be her father. He felt sick. He wanted anything to not feel what he was feeling. But at the same time he could see you smirking, giving your mother what for.

You watched as the sun began to set. You rested your head against him as you both watched in silence.

He folded the blanket up and you walked back to reception. You put the basket on the front desk and thanked them. Together you walked to the car. You unlocked her and sat in the drivers seat as Misha sat beside you in passenger.

You drove home ready to begin the steps of becoming you.

You parked your baby on Misha’s driveway. As you stepped out, your porch light came on and Ma stepped out on the porch.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N, what time do you call this?? you get inside, right this minute!” She stepped back inside with a slam of the porch door.

You closed your eyes and felt the fight drain.

“Don’t lose faith.”

You looked at Misha. At least he believed in you, even when you didn’t.

You flung your arms around him. You felt his arms go around you. You breathed Misha in. Oh Lord he was gonna make you dizzy.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Honey Bee.”

You parted and you turned to look at your car once before you made your way inside.

He waved you goodbye and you smiled feeling the fluttering of  butterflies in your stomach. You passed it off as you were giddy from being given a car.

You walked in and saw your parents standing there.

“Hey, Ma, Daddy. Have a good day? I know I did. I’m sure as heck beat though. I’ll see you in the morning.” You said with a smile plastered on your face and made your way upstairs leaving your Ma flabbergasted.

“Looks like a girl in love, if I ever saw one.” Your father said.

“Mike?”

“Could be.”

Your father said and pecked his wife on the forehead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader takes a leap into becoming the person she wants to be and heads to a bar. Low and behold, guess who else happens to be there…

Misha lifted the beer bottle to his lips and took a sip. He needed this. A night away from Y/N. He needed the casualness of the bar. The ambience and atmosphere of the patrons and people having a good time in general. He needed it loud to block out Y/N in his head. He didn’t want to have to think about what it felt like to have your body flush against his. He didn’t want to remember itching to kiss you. He didn’t want to have to remember how badly aroused you made him, like he was twenty years younger. He didn’t want to remember furiously jacking himself off over you and cumming so hard he yelled and saw stars.

And he didn’t know why the hell he accepted your mothers invitation to church. If she knew what a sick puppy he was she would run in the opposite direction and take you with her.

He stood up when he saw his two pals. He gave each one a bro hug, slapping them on their backs. He needed a good night free and maybe to vent.

The drinks were flowing, the laughter was raucous and the talk was getting dirty.

Then from the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of you. He did a double take. The alcohol hit him and he growled.

“Dude?”

“She shouldn’t be here.” He said to himself.

“Who?”

He watched as you leant on the bar casually like you belonged here. He loved the black leather jacket you had on, his eyes travelled down to your ass. You were still rocking the floral innocent girl dress. He heard you laugh and thank the barman. He saw you tip your head back as you drank.

You turned round and your confidence dropped tenfold. He was here. Misha was here with friends. You couldn’t turn and make out you hadn’t seen him. He had definitely seen you.

You put on a brave face and marched your way up to your neighbour, his friend with short dirty blonde hair and green eyes smacked Misha and the Tarzan sitting beside him. He passed a word or two and looked intrigued, a slick smile on his lips. You gripped your beer as you walked closer to your neighbour. You smiled at his friend and took the free stool beside Misha.

“Sup, Misha.”

Your smile became coy and you took a sip of beer.

He looked at you like you were misbehaving.

“What are you doing here, Y/N.”

You swallowed. It was weird to see him outside neighbour territory and you didn’t know if this was crossing the line.

“There’s karaoke on tonight. It’s the only place close to mine. Wanna introduce me to your friends.”

No he did not.

“This is Jensen,” He gestured to the green eyed man beside him, the one who gave you the fetching smile. “And this is Jared.” Jared was the guy with long hair and light stubble on his face, you could see he had hazel eyes. Christ even his friends were good looking. Were they all single?

“This is Y/N. She’s my neighbours daughter.”

Oookay. He was being like that. It wasn’t like he had just given you a car for your birthday or anything.

“Neighbour, eh.” Jensen said with other suggesting.

“Dude.” Jared cuffed Jensen on the backside of his head.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Jared smiled.

“So you said there’s karaoke?” Jensen asked.

You smiled and nodded. Misha became enraged and felt wildly possessive of you.

You were drunk. You were that drunk you threw your hands around Misha on the dancing floor. And Misha let you. You felt his hands touch your hips as you shimmied and swayed. Jensen rocked it on the karaoke. You felt your hands make their way down Misha’s body as you gently gyrated to the music, completely out of it.

When he finished you cheered louder than anyone else did in the bar. Then he gestured for you to get up on the stage. You did with unsteady legs. You swayed and giggled. You clocked Misha and gave him a scintillating smile.

The music began and you started soft.

“Some people like beautiful, perfect and pretty.”

Jensen moved off the stage and joined Jared and Misha on the floor, letting you take over.

You were drunk. You were loving it. The felt the rock and moved to the music. It was coming up to the chorus and the crowd were already feeling you.

“I like it louder than the boom of a big bass drum!!” You yelled out.

You put your all into the performance. No one was here to tell you to sing softer. To not sound so gritty. To sound more sweeter. You weren’t at church. You weren’t at home. You let it all out.

“Woahhhhh, I like it heavy!!!!”

You didn’t see Misha staring at you entranced by your performance. You gave the crowd what they wanted. You were totally and utterly zoned out giving it your all.

Jensen clapped Misha on the shoulder, pulling him out of his trance.

“One hell of a neighbour you got there.”

“And old enough to be your daughter, Jay.” Misha huffed.

Jensen laughed and sipped his beer.

“Is that what you tell yourself? You’re totally giving her the moon eyes.”

Misha looked at Jensen. Jensen was giving him a shit eating grin.

“Besides, I think she likes you.”

Misha snorted.

“If her mother knew.”

“She would tear into my ass, take her child and run for the hills.”

Jensen laughed, bottle to his lips.

“I bet she would.”

Misha watched you on the stage, enjoying every moment, living it up. A small smile curved his lips and then as you stepped off the stage, a kid your age, wrapped his arm around you, and whisked you away to the corner of the bar. He staggered, unsteady on his feet, wanting to have his way with you.

Misha’s jaw tensed and he put his beer down.

“Looks like your girl pulled.” Jensen commented.

Misha strode over to the kid, and yanked him back by the scruff of his shirt.

“Heey!” He slurred.

The kid turned around to see who it was.

“Get off me, Grampa.”

Misha blanched. Grampa? _I don’t think so._ He thought.

“I suggest you leave.”

Misha pushed him away from you.

You pouted.

“Whyyyyyy’d you go do that foorrr?”

“Cause he’s a douche.”

“Cute douche.” You smiled and giggled.

Clearly the audience had been more than pliant in buying you drinks as you performed.

You sipped your beer, until Misha pulled it from your grasp.

“Heeeeeey!!!” You whined. “That was miine.” You tried to pry it from his fingers. He gave it to Jared, who was passing by.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

You shook your head vehemently and decided to follow Jared in getting your beer back. Misha’s hand touched your wrist.

“Why don’t you sit down, wouldn’t want you tripping and hurting that pretty little face of yours.”

A giggle fell from your lips.

“You think I’m pretty?”

He looked down to you smiling innocently, plastered out of your face.

“I think you’re drunk.”

You groaned.

“I’m grabbing the potential, to become the person I wanna be.”

You swayed violently as you spoke with your hands.

Misha’s arm came around your waist steadying you.

“And this included you getting drunk?”

“It included me taking risks.” You smiled at him seductively.

You turned your body inward, your hands reaching up to his shoulders.

Misha’s heart beat and all he could do was watch. Were you about to take a risk right now? He gulped as you looked at him with those big innocent doe eyes.

Your face pressed against his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. Misha could feel his skin prickle with heat. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and tried to calm his beating heart.

“Mmm why do you have to be so good looking?”

Misha’s eyes widened. You bit your lip, looking at him, hiding almost.

“I get off on you.” You whispered.

Heat flushed straight through Misha’s body. He gulped as you giggled. Images flooded his brain of you pleasuring yourself, over him, calling his name.

“You give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas, Mr Collins,” Though your speech was slurred, he heard every word. “Trust me. I don’t wanna be a good girl any more, Misha. I wanna be bad. Your bad girl.”

His mouth went dry and he had to pull you away from him before you felt his bodily reaction.

“Want you to show me. I wanna have so much ssssexxx”

“Y/N, do you know what you’re saying?”

You nodded.

He sat down and you in your drunken state climbed on top. His breathing quickened.

“Mmmmmm… You’re so warm…I could…” You began to say, but the copious amount of alcohol won out and you sank into a deep sleep.

Misha sighed as he stared at you sleeping. Your hair falling over your face, your lips parted in slumber. He hoped you wouldn’t remember this evenings antics. He loved spending time with you and didn’t want it to have to end due to things becoming awkward. He hooked his arms under you and stood slowly. You grumbled and flung your arm out. He walked out, ignoring the looks J2 were giving him. He carried you over to his car making a quick search for yours. He laid you against the back seat, heart thrumming, he tucked a stray strand of hair away from your face.

He wished he could do something about his feelings. But he wanted to be sure you felt the same. And he didn’t want to regret it. Didn’t want to ruin the blossoming friendship.

He looked at you a little longer before closing the car door. Footsteps came up to him and he turned. It was Jensen.

“Sleeping Beauty forgot her purse.” He held out her bag.

Misha took it. “Thanks, bro.”

“You sure do like her.”

“Her parents will kill me.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that, but you can’t tell me you wish for something more. Like I said before, I think she likes you. I see something special in her, for you. You can’t let the age gap hold you back. Not if it’ll bring you a lifetime of happiness.”

“I need her to be her, first, Jay. I can’t do anything until she is herself. And I think she’s on her way to becoming.”

Jensen nodded.

“I’ll see you later, man. Have a safe trip home.”

Jensen clapped Misha on the back and he headed back into the bar. Misha drove home with you in the back seat.

You woke up with a road drill pounding in your head and a washing machine in your stomach. You groaned, your body curling up under the sheets. Until you could no longer contain it. You threw back the sheets and sat up. It took you a second to realise you were in Misha’s bed. Panic set in, but didn’t have time to settle as your stomach took another turn, turning your skin clammy. You ran out and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door open, dropping to your knees, grabbed the rim and unloaded your stomach.

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A second load was coming and you kicked the door shut with your foot.

When it was over you slumped against the seat, wiping your hair off your sweating skin. You breathed slowly, your head banging. Why were you at Misha’s? What had happened last night? You couldn’t remember. You were still dressed in last nights clothing, bar your shoes. Thinking of Misha taking off your shoes and placing them neatly under the bed made your heart pinch in a good way.

The door knocked and you jumped.

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?”

You looked around.

“Uh huh. I’ll be out in a min.”

You gave yourself another couple minutes to determine how your stomach was feeling, then cleaned yourself up. You opened the door and found Misha in his room. You hovered by the doorway, unsure of your stomach but because you had slept in his bed and you couldn’t face being in the same room.

“What happened last night Misha?” You leant against the door frame. He looked at you and smiled. Your stupid heart clenched.

“Lets just say you sure had a lot of fun. You danced. You sang, and you sure did drink. And when you passed out, I bought you back here. Thought you could lay low for a while. I made breakfast. Got some orange juice. Coffee? And painkillers.”

You slowly let out a smile. It was official. Misha was the best. The thought of food made you wrinkle your nose.

“It’s good for the stomach.”

Your mouth felt dry from the lack of hydration. You wondered in. You didn’t feel right sitting on his bed, even though minutes before you had been in it.

You chose to sit in an armchair.

“Do you remember anything?”

You squinted your eyes as you tried to remember.

“I remember meeting your friends, chatting to them and having a beer and then it sort of goes fuzzy and then nothing.”

Misha nodded.

He didn’t want you to remember. Didn’t want you to remember as you practically propositioned him. He couldn’t get the words out of his head. You wanting to be his bad girl made him feel all types of feelings. Put all kinds of images in his head. He had touched himself thinking about you touching yourself, thinking about him. He had to grit his teeth knowing you were asleep in the next room, but he couldn’t help the cry as he came hard. You sipped the coffee and popped the painkillers. God knows you needed them. You looked at the breakfast he had provided you with. It wasn’t bad, no grease to turn your stomach.

He had given you an omelette stuffed full of vegetables. On one side you had orange segments and toast on another. It didn’t make you want to throw up by looking at it.

You dug in and you moaned at how good it tasted.

Misha shifted uncomfortably on the bed, your moan going straight through him.

You had to admit, Misha knew how to take care of you. You should have found it odd but instead you found it comforting. Even your parents didn’t particularly know how to do that.

“That was amazing. Thank you. I should learn how to cook like that. Learn to keep me a man.” You said then grimaced as Mike popped up in your head. Maybe not. Your worst nightmare was waiting on hand and foot for a man who didn’t appreciate you. Your worst nightmare was being trapped in a relationship, in a marriage with no way out. If your mother had her way, you’d already be married to Mike with maybe one or two tots.

To her, your body wasn’t yours, it was Christ’s. To your mother, there was no such thing as divorce. And that made your chest tighten.

“Was that your first time drunk?” Misha asked as you set aside the tray.

You covered your hands with your face in embarrassment.

“Was it that obvious?”

He crossed his leg over, leaned his elbow on his leg and rested his chin on his hand.

“No, I mean, I couldn’t tell.”

You peeked behind your fingers. He looked angelic.

“You’re teasing me.”

He smiled and you covered your face again.

“Oh I bet I made a fool of myself”

“No. You were fine. You did just fine.”

You smiled behind your hand. You couldn’t tell whether he was stretching the truth or not. You groaned.

“I probably should get going. I’ve wasted enough of your time, get out of these clothes, which probably smell like I was dragged through a liquor factory, backwards.”

He chuckled and reached beside him to the small set of folded clothes.

“I thought you might wanna lay low. From your parents, from Mike. You can spend as much time as you like, freshen up, relax, get rid of that headache.”

You smiled and stood. You took the clothes off him.

“Thanks, Misha.”

You lingered until you were sure things were getting awkward, then you padded to the bathroom.

You locked the door and inspected the items of clothing Misha had just given you. Another rock band t-shirt. This one was KISS. The next item were sweat shorts. They were old and had probably shrunk in the wash a couple times. They looked like they might fit. You turned and yelled out when you saw yourself in the mirror.

Jesus!!! You looked haggard! You had bags under your eyes and your skin was looking a little grey. Yet Misha had looked at you like you were some sort of model.

Misha heard the shower and decided he should make himself busy. He began work on commissions, in his workshop.

You tightened the shorts ties. They rested just above your knees and they weren’t half bad. Maybe a little baggy but that was okay. You headed down tugging at the t-shirt. In your head a little voice repeated to you that Misha had once worn these clothes, plenty of times and that was turning you on.

Your head throbbed a little less, which you were grateful for. You made your way through his house and to his workshop where you could hear the use of hammers, saws and mechanical objects being used. You popped in and he instantly stopped what he was doing.

You dragged your hand through your hair, a little nervous.

Misha saw you and was glad he was behind a workbench. He didn’t want you to see his growing hard on. You looked more alive, a twinkle in our eye. He found it cute as you hovered. You were going to be centre feature in his fantasies. In his t-shirt, giving him big “come get me” eyes.

He was going to hell in a handbasket.

He knew it. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha attends church and has dinner with you.

You woke up to your mother calling you. You rolled over and your blurry eyes looked at the alarm clock on your bedside table. Your eyes widened and you gasped. You threw back the sheets and rushed to the bathroom, skidding on the laminate flooring in your bed socks.

You got ready at breakneck speed and you nearly slipped down the stairs, thankfully you saved yourself in time. You had your guitar slung over your back.

“I’m down. I’m here.”

You made your way into the front room, your finger twirling the end of your pony tail as you walked. You stopped dead when you saw Misha. In his Sunday best.

“Mr Collins. Ma, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, dear, I forgot to say, Mr Collins will be joining us for church and Sunday dinner.”

You looked at him and smiled.

Inside you were screaming. Misha was coming to church with you. He was joining your family for Sunday dinner. He was going to be around the whole day. Your parents didn’t even know you went out on the Friday and by serendipity you met up with Misha and his friends and as the night went on your inhibitions loosened and your speech started to slur. At the end of the night you were absolutely wasted you could barely walk. You had no recollection of the night. Thankfully Misha was there to look after you.

Church was meant to be the one place with zero temptation. The place for clean thoughts, devotion and prayers.

Ma was always forgetting to tell you things, but you had been spending time with Misha. You wondered why he hadn’t told you. Looking at Misha, his hands were locked together. He was deep in thought.

You had only just gotten over Friday nights hangover. He looked up and smiled.

Sitting beside him in the car was hell. You feigned interest and inside your mind you went over the songs you were going to be singing.

*

You sat down, having set your instruments on the stage. Misha was cupping a steaming mug of coffee.

“You always get free coffee in the mornings?” He murmured to you, his voice low right by my ear.

It went right through, hitting all the right spots. You nodded, squeezing my hands around my Bible spine.

“Well if you’da said sooner.”

“I didn’t know that’s all it would take.”

His arm brushed against yours. You were nervous, anxious and getting horny. Scratch that. You were already horny. He was just making it worse. You were in a place of worship. It should have been illegal for you to be aroused here.

Misha in Sunday best would forever be etched in your mind.

When it was your time, you excused yourself and walked up to the stage. You started the chords and opened your mouth.

*

Misha didn’t like the way you were singing so softly. He could hardly hear you over the music and that little twerp, Mike. He tried not to let his annoyance show, but this was one of the reasons he had excuse for attending. He wanted to hear you sing. He wanted to spend more time with you.

He noticed you stumble over the first few notes. Did him being here make you nervous he wondered. You put him on edge.

Your smile. Your timidness. He couldn’t get you out of his head. Couldn’t get the way you moved against him, gyrating and grinding, your hands sliding over his body, you being so out of it and in the zone. Your arms up, hands grazing his neck, his hands on your waist.

Jesus-fucking-Christ, he was going to have to excuse himself if he kept on thinking about that. But he wanted to. He wanted to remember his own hips moving in time with yours, both your bodies swaying. Jensen had said it looked like a cut scene from Dirty Dancing.

“Brethren, I want to talk to you today about temptation.”

Of course he did.

“What tempts you? Is it that Twinkie in its foil wrapper just before dinner, or maybe it’s just one more episode when you know you’ve got a list of chores to do. Maybe it might be buying a little something for yourself when you know you need the money for bills. Or it’s thinking about that person when you know you shouldn’t. Temptation is a sin,” _Or a certain neighbour._ You thought. “If you’d like to join me in reading this passage of scripture, open your Bibles to Matthew 6:9 to 13.”

You heard a flurry of paper, as Bibles were opened. You turned to the page and moved it so Misha could read too. His hand held the corner. His thumb was tanned from all the manual labour, nail trimmed neat, noticed how much bigger it was than yours, and you couldn’t stop the inappropriate thoughts from coming. Your toes curled inside your slip-ons. This was going to be one hell of a test.

Pastor Jim read the passage. You could barely follow along. Being in such close proximity

“Lead us not into temptation.”

You gulped.

“Jesus knew about temptation. Because he personally had the devil come and tempt him. Every time the devil would say something to him, he reminded himself of the Word. He reminded himself of God. He reminds us to repent and to ask us to pray to our Father so that we can keep ourselves in check and when temptation does come knocking we can then say ‘No!’,” He held up his hand. “Not today, Satan. I will not yield to you.”

Around the congregation you saw a few people nodding, heard people clapping and a few Amens, Preach It’s and Hallelujahs.

Misha was feeling the heat. It didn’t help being seated next to you. The perfect enticement. He didn’t like the subject of today’s sermon. Not with you beside him. Not with wild and untamed thoughts running through his mind.

His hand came up to his neck and rubbed it, uncomfortable. He tried to concentrate, but couldn’t, not with your knee touching his.

“Temptation comes in many forms.”

Didn’t you know it.

“Lust, greed, envy are all examples of temptation. In Second Samuel 11, we have the story of David and Bathsheba. Bathsheba was already married, yet that didn’t stop David from wanting. Temptation lead him to lust and to commit adultery. Bathsheba became pregnant and what did David do? He arranged a death for Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband.”

Misha shifted in his seat and his knee brushed against yours setting off sparks. He gritted his teeth as a wave of lust punched his gut, travelling swiftly south.

“In Exodus Twenty, we are given a list of commandments. We are told not to covet. Specifically anything of your neighbours.

 _What about your neighbour?_ You thought. Could you not want your neighbour? Jesus did say ‘Love thy neighbour.’

He wanted his neighbour. With a burning passion.

Concentration was nion impossible. Was it hot in here? Your skin pricked with heat and salacious tingles. Already your breasts felt too tight in your bra, could feel your nipples pebble. You had to stop the groan from forming in your throat.

Was he planning on attending every week? Did he plan on sitting beside you every time? If he did… maybe he was a sadist. Did he like making you suffer? But that would make you a masochist. You wanted him to come. You wanted him to sit beside you. Just because you wanted him.

You fazed out Pastor Jim speaking, barely noticing Misha flicking through pages of your Bible.

“The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for. It’s your choice whether or not you want to give in to the test.”

Pastor Jim’s final words pulled me back.

“Let us pray.”

You bowed your head, hands locking together. You glanced beside you, saw Misha with his head bowed, hands clasped. He turned his head slightly as he saw you, and winked.

Fuuuuck.

Misha was your tempter. Your test.

You looked forward, panties moist. You closed your eyes, squeezing them tight. He was killing you. Did you have the strength to fight the test? Fuck no, you didn’t.

You were falling head first and you didn’t mind one bit.

You felt Misha’s arm nudge you. You looked at him, his head came closer to yours.

“Aren’t you meant to be up?”

Shit! You were.

“Sing your heart out, sunshine.”

“Amen.” Pastor Jim ended the prayer.

You stood and made your way over to your guitar. You started with the chords. This was one of your favourites. True it was worship but it never failed to get you pumped.

“Everyone needs compassion, a love that’s never failing.”

You started out soft, just as you practised. You swayed and felt the music flow through you. You forgot about Misha, forgot the congregation, forgot Mike. You sang. Oh, God, did you sing.

You didn’t see Pastor Jim give you looks. Didn’t see Mike look at you. But you did see Misha’s beaming smile.

You saw people swaying and in the worship zone.

You sung loud and proud. The way you would sing it.

And when you were finished you made your way back to your seat, aware of the stunned silence.

“Well, uh, thank you brethren. If you care, refreshments are at the back.”

He stepped down and you saw Mike coming straight to you. Oh dear Lord.

“That was not the way we practised.” Mike hissed.

Pastor Jim came over to you as everyone headed straight to the back for after church refreshments.

“Y/N, I’m very well aware you can sing, but the church has no need for a concert.”

“She didn’t do that in practice, Pastor.”

Pastor Jim nodded, fingers on his chin.

“I was just feeling the worship, sir. Feeling the Spirit.”

“And you have no idea how much that pleases me, but please, a little obedience goes a long way. Proverbs 31, Ephesians 5 and Titus 2. You’ll do well to remember.”

You knew them off by heart. They had been drummed into you. You refrained from throwing the verses back at him. He walked away and Mike was instantly on your case.

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry. I felt the music, felt the spirit and that happened.”

He looked displeased.

“Well I suggest you read up on those passages Pastor Jim suggested. I don’t know what’s with you lately.”

You really wanted to tell Mike to go fuck himself. You turned away from him and began to put your instruments away.

You hoped to God your parents wouldn’t give you shit about it. You turned and saw them talking to Misha. He laughed, his head tipped back and you spaced out, only seeing him for that moment in time.

Someone snapped their fingers at your face. You blinked coming back to the real world.

“Earth to Y/N. Are you going to help set down?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Instead you didn’t answer Mike and continued packing away. You couldn’t have been out for that long.

You were almost done when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You looked over your shoulder to see Misha. You smiled and turned, giving him your full attention. He had taken off his blazer jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms. You tried not to stare.

“I’m sorry if I got you into trouble.”

You waved him off.

“Oh, you didn’t. No need to apologize, Mish.”

“Well I feel partly responsible,” You saw him look around. “Need any help?”

You looked at the last amp. Mike was AWOL and you couldn’t physically lift it.

“That amp. It needs to go to the storage room. If you carry it I can lead you to the room.”

“Sounds good.”

Misha bent down to pick up the amp. You averted your eyes just as you glimpsed the curve of his ass. You glanced around the room, guilty someone had spotted you. He lifted the amp and your eyes immediately went to his arms. It wasn’t overly heavy but you noticed his muscles bunch and your mouth went dry. You tried to ignore the steady thrum below as you lead him to the storage room.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you were alone. In a sense.

“I see you’re fully recovered from Friday.”

You smiled.

“Thankfully,” You looked to him. “You did help out considerably. And laying low at yours was great. I managed to fool my parents into thinking I was still at home.”

He smiled shaking his head.

“Rebellious streak showing through.”

“Something like that.”

You opened the storage room and clicked on the light. You pointed to where the amp should go. He set the amp down at its designated spot. He turned back to you.

“Do people regularly forget their nights out?” You asked, curious.

“Well, that depends on how much they drink. Some know their limits and don’t go over and some just drink and drink and drink.”

You nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, you weren’t that bad. I’ve seen worse.” He smiled reassuringly to you.

That made you feel better.

You were aware you were alone with him. You could feel the atmosphere thickening with the heady sexual tension. You turned round to leave and felt a hand wrap around your wrist. You looked at him, made the mistake of looking at his eyes. Your breath held in your throat.

“If you ever feel the need to lay low… you’re very welcome around my house. Any time.”

His voice was low and quiet. Lord. You didn’t know what to say. His hand lingered on your wrist and his thumb decided to draw patterns on the back of your hand. His hand was warm and dry. You couldn’t think. The words were stuck in your throat. You looked at his hand. The patterns he was tracing went straight down and you struggled to find the words. You didn’t realise your breathing had gone heavy.

You looked back at him. His blue orbs were blown with lust. Liquid fire ran through you.

“Misha.”

Your voice was quiet and breathy. Desperate. Needy.

He took a step closer to you. Holy shit. This was actually gonna happen.

His fingers held your chin, his thumb traced over your bottom lip, your eyelashes lowered and a rush of pure ecstasy bolted down your veins. Heat flamed your gut and you whimpered.

You needed him. Wanted him. You were so wet for him.

He leaned closer.

“Misha?”

Ma was calling for Misha.

Just like that it was ripped from you.

“Until next time.” His finger flicked from your chin and he left you in the storage room.

FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

You leaned against the shelves, your head falling back. You breathed heavily regaining your breath. Fuck. Oh fuck. That had almost happened. You and Misha had almost kissed and Ma had pulled the rug up from under your feet.

You remembered Misha would be there for dinner and you closed your eyes, praying for strength. He wouldn’t tease you in front of your parents surely? You didn’t know what he was capable of.

You made your way back to the main hall and saw Misha talking to a woman. You didn’t particularly know her a lot, but you had seen her around. He seemed engaged and you felt a burning which seemed to emanate from the centre of your chest and journey out.

He had very nearly kissed you and now he was talking to others like you didn’t matter.

You shot daggers at him and turned away.

Your father found you inside the prayer room. You were stewing. He thought you were praying. It was time to go. Misha touched your elbow.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“Prayer Room.” you answered, clipped.

“Was it empty?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes.

“No, Misha, it wasn’t.”

Your mother and father were ahead of you. You saw him turn to you, a smile on his face.

“Are you jealous?”

“What do I possibly have anything to be jealous of?”

“I know you saw me talking to Hannah,” Damn. “you left soon after. Your mother introduced us. Did you know Hannah teaches to deaf kids? She also has a dog and a hamster and she hates sweetcorn-”

“Save it.” Every word he said scorched your insides and your blood simmered wishing he would just shut up.

You hurried to your parents who were talking at the car.

“Did you grab my Bible, honey?”

“No, Si, I thought you had it.”

Your father sighed.

“I was sure I had it.”

Ma turned to you.

“We won’t be long, gotta get your fathers Bible.”

You smiled at her and they headed back inside.

Misha caught up with you.

“Admit it, you’re jealous.”

He wasn’t going to let up and you were going to lose the will to live if he kept on about it.

“Fine. You win. I was, okay.”

He smiled.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

That made you shut up. You didn’t think he would be outright with it. You turned around unsure how to process it. He was teasing, surely.

Misha smirked. Winding you up was fast becoming a favourite sport of his. Introduced to Hannah by Connie Y/L/N, he felt obliged to engage in conversation. He also wanted to get you out of his mind. Get almost kissing you out his head.

He looked around to check who was around. He bent down to speak into your ear.

“I still want to kiss you.”

That was a bad move. He really wanted to. He thought of nothing else, other than pushing you against your parents car and kissing the breath out of both of you.

He was thankful when Connie and Simon were back.

*

Back at home you helped your parents with dinner. You made the mashed potato and started on desert. Your mother was aware of a guest in her house and made you keep him company.

You came out of the kitchen, hair awry, heat flushed skin. He smiled and you lit up. You couldn’t stay mad at him. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to be petty.

You wanted to talk. But you didn’t know what to talk about with your parents being in such close proximity. You both shared a secret. One you weren’t going to be spilling any time soon.

You were a gracious host. He asked for coffee. You made it.

Then dinner time finally came. You set the table. Your mother sat at the end of the table, opposite your father. That meant you would be opposite Misha.

He sat at his place and you came in with the last pot.

“This all looks great.”

You smiled.

“Well, thank you, Mr Collins.”

“Please, call me Misha. Mr Collins is my father.”

“Okay, Misha. Gather hands everybody. Simon, would you do the honour of saying Grace?”

“I would be honoured.”

You linked hands and bowed your head. You peeked and saw Misha’s head bowed. His eyes looked up and he winked. You looked down quickly before any one of your parents noticed.

Your father said Amen and you all unlinked hands.

“Help yourself, Misha.”

“Thank you, this all looks delicious.”

He helped himself, piling up food on his plate. You tried to not stare, but couldn’t help it. You set your plate up and just when you thought you were done being aroused, Misha’s lips wrapped around the fork and pulled the food clean off it. The sight was purely erotic. He caught you looking and slowed the process just a little. Shit. You wanted to get out of this alive. You didn’t want to become a mushy mess on the floor. He smirked and you began to shovel food down as fast as you could.

“Honey, slow down. You’ll give yourself indigestion.”

“Sorry, Ma, just really hungry.”

You didn’t have a choice but to slow down. You averted your eyes but it was physically impossible not to look at him.

“So, Y/N, anything new in your life?”

You looked up, eyes glancing from your mother to your father. You had to make it look like you barely spoke to the man.

“Not particularly. Got some new stock in.”

“What about Mike?”

“I guess he’s good.”

“You guess? Aren’t you two like a thing?”

He was messing around. Misha knew damn well Mike and I didn’t come close enough to be a thing. But for intents and purposes he had to make it look like he didn’t know a thing. I still had to refrain from giving him the bitch face.

Your mother and father looked at you.

“Mike and Y/N have always been childhood sweethearts. They’ve always been close. So I wouldn’t put it against them if they did decide to date. We just want Y/N to make the right choices and stay close to the Lord.”

And that included living at home until you were married, clearly. Your momma was going to have a heart attack if she knew you planned on never getting with Mike.

“Though, I know, Mike’s parents are pushing for it.”

You stared at Ma.

“Say whut now?” You said a with a mouth full of mashed potato.

“Don’t say what, say pardon and don’t speak with your mouth full.”

You hurriedly swallowed your mouthful of food.

“Pardon?”

Misha was looking from side to side, most likely feeling a litle awkward and uncomfortable.

“We have a guest, were not having this conversation now.”

“Shouldn’t it be up to Mike and I whether or not we choose to date or not, not up to other people.”

“Y/N. You’re being very rude. We have a guest.”

You looked to Misha who began shovelling food on his plate again.

“Sorry about that, Mr Collins.”

He waved a hand.

“It’s kinda my fault. I’m the one that bought it up.”

You nodded. “Yes, you did.”

“Y/N!!”

It was a bad thing if your father said your name. Worse if he had shouted it.

“Sorry, daddy. Sorry Mr Collins.”

“That’s better, but you’re on dishes.”

You internally groaned.

“Wasn’t that the whole point of us getting a dishwasher, daddy?”

“Hey,” He waved his fork at you. “You best not be back talking me, missy.”

“No, daddy.”

You stabbed a piece of meat with your fork, pouting, not looking at anybody.

You made a start on the dishes. You let the roast pans soak before scrubbing and setting them on the dish rack.

“Guess I kinda put my foot in that.”

You jumped. You had been stewing over the situation of you and Mike.

“Where are my parents?” you spoke quietly.

“In the front room.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Having dinner with your family.”

I leaned on one side and gave him the bitch face of doom.

“No, I mean, here. In the kitchen.”

“Oh, your momma said to help myself to coffee, plus it gives me a chance to speak to you.”

You scrubbed a dish. “What about?” You put the dish on the rack.

“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble, again.”

You shook your head.

“I’m glad you bought it up, that way I now know that Mikes parents are pushing for us to be together and I bet my parents are secretly rooting for us, too.”

“That’s true, but I do have a conscious. Besides I think you’re mad at me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you called me Mr Collins twice and I bought up Mike and you still haven’t forgiven me cause I made you jealous earlier.”

“Ah.”

“I’m sorry. We still friends?” You saw him go for the dishcloth and pick up the closest thing to him.

You couldn’t stay mad at him.

“Of course, Collins.”

He gave you his bitch face and you smiled at him innocently.

You rejoined your parents in the front room.

*

“Mmmm what is that delectable smell?”

You looked to Misha cupping his empty mug.

“Oh, that’s just Y/N/N’s apple pie.”

“Your apple pie?” He looked to you and you fought the blush that was creeping on your cheeks.

You nodded.

“I can’t wait to get a slice of that pie.”

His words were totally innocent but you swore there was an underlining meaning to it, which had you spluttering on your coffee and you creaming your panties.

You had to excuse yourself. Your skin pricked with the heat you knew all too well, as it began to simmer in your blood and your loins.

You checked the pie and began to make the custard trying to cool and calm the hell down. You checked for cream and ice-cream. You were all good on that.

You set the table once again and bought the custard in, followed by the cream and ice-cream. Then you opened the oven door and was blasted with heat. You quickly shut the heat off and used oven mitts to take the pie out. The crust was lovely and golden and the aroma watered your mouth. You took the piece de resistance in, setting it down in the centre of the table.

Your father patted you on your shoulder.

“I think this is your best one yet.”

You smiled at him.

“They’re all pretty good.”

“I know. Misha, would you care to do the honours?” Your father asked and passed the knife over.

“It would be my pleasure.”

He cut down the centre, cutting a slice and placing it onto a shallow bowl.

He cut all four slices.

You added a scoop of ice- cream to yours whilst Ma preferred cream and your father, custard.

Misha let out a long drawn moan. It shouldn’t have hit you dead centre of your chest as a blast of hot cold lust, that should not have zipped straight down to your core, making you curl your toes tightly as you felt a low thrum.

“You have outdone yourself, honey.” Your father said proudly.

Misha licked the spoon and waved it at you.

“That’s the best pie I’ve ever tasted.”

Your mind wandered. You thought of his tongue which made it worse, in places yo had no business thinking about. You crossed your leg over and tried thinking of other things, but to no avail.

*

You made yourself scarce after Misha left. You headed upstairs and hoped and prayed your parents wouldn’t want or need you.

You closed your bedroom door.

Misha slammed shut the front door and you both leant against your doors panting.

Your hands travelled down your dress. God you were aching. You were so sexually frustrated. Your fingers grazed over your thigh as your other hand curled over the hem, bunching the material.

Misha made a rush of unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. God you were a tease and a little temptress. He threw off his jacket and pulled off his tie, heading to his bedroom. He made quick work ridding himself of his shirt not caring where his clothes landed. He shut his bedroom door, hand diving, rubbing himself over his boxers.

Then he stopped. He saw you. Saw you against the door. Eyes closed. Lips parted. Your hand inching closer and closer.

He had been hard before but now he was even harder.

You bit your bottom lip and he felt himself twitch.

You pushed your hand down, fingertips touching slick skin. You slicked over the tiny bundle of nerves, and had to restrain from groaning, eyelids fluttering.

Misha knew then at that exact moment in time how you felt about  him. He gripped his shaft, eyes never leaving you.

He watched you touch yourself. Chest heaving, he pumped himself.

Across from Misha, was you. You couldn’t see Misha. You didn’t even know what he was doing, but you were thinking about him in the dirtiest way possible.

In your mind, Misha was touching you. It was his digits stroking over sensitive nerves, teasing your entrance, making you short of breath.

_Is this what you want?_

In your head he was right beside you, bending over, his voice right in your ear, low and husky.

Mentally you nodded.

 _I bet it is._ His chuckle was low in his throat, sending waves of chills to bolt through you.

Misha watched you nod. What he would have done to be inside your head at that very moment and know what was going through your mind.

He fisted his shaft, stroking his thumb over the smooth tip. He was slow in his actions. He wanted to savour every last minute. You mouthed his name and he sucked in a breath.

You rested a foot against the door in a casual manner, giving you more access. Your fingers entering you slowly. You breathed calmly. Inside your head, Misha’s digits were filling you, stretching you. Your head fell back, you bit your lip.

_Oh, such a bad little girl._

You pumped steadily. Your other hand smashed into your chest of drawers. You pulled open the third drawer and searched frantically.

Misha saw you searching. Then your hand came out, wrapped around something. He caught a glimpse. It was battery shaped and just as small. A smile played on his lips, his chest heaved and sweat lightly sheened his skin.

“That’s my girl.”

You sucked in a breath as you switched it on. It buzzed and you buzzed. You squeezed your eyes tight shut and let out a harsh breath.

Misha was in your ear.

_Mmmmmm. I got something else you’d like._

You were breathing hard and fast now. Oh God yes please.

_Something reeeaaaal big._

Fuck.

_Something reeeaaaal hard._

Yes. You wanted that.

Your fingers curled.

_Better than my fingers._

Heat swamped your gut and you were instantly sweating. You wanted it. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.

_Are you thinking about it? Thinking about me taking you. Hard. Fast._

Inside your mind, Misha was in front of you, trapping you as he worked, head bowed. His tongue slicking his lips, sinful words escaping his lips to your ear, travelling all the way down to your throbbing core.

Heat coiled in your gut.

Misha smiled wolfishly at you. Seemed he knew.

_That’s it baby._

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

It wrapped itself tighter.

You thought about him above you, your legs spread and him driving into you at a force that should be unnatural, his hands squeezing yours hard.

Jesus fuck- Lord al-fucking mighty.

You shook. Your whole body began to quake as you edged towards the finish.

_I wanna fuck your pretty little brains out._

More heat. The spring tightened. Your toes curled.

You worked a little faster.

_Now cum on Daddy’s fingers so I can fuck you._

The coil sprang and your orgasm crashed through you in waves. You cried out, back arcing, a hand coming out, grabbing any furniture in sight, dropping the toy as you fell to the floor on your knees, riding it out.

Misha’s wanted to close his eyes, but that would mean blocking out the erotic sight before him.

Your cry triggered him. Strings of hot semen spurted out over his hand, as he grunted thinking about more he wanted to do. He wanted to hear that cry over and over again. Under him, on top, he wanted it to surround his ears.

He watched as you fell to your knees, your body shaking.

Shit. You had meant to keep quiet. You waited with bated breath. You heard footsteps and you instantly got up. You rushed throwing things in any place, intent on tidying up properly.

A knock sounded on your door.

“Y/N? You okay?”

It was Ma.

“Yeah. I fell over. Klutz moment.”

“Okay. Well, see you in the morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Ma.”

As soon as her footsteps faded, you leaned against the door and let out a sigh of relief.

That was a close call.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader hangs out with Jared, Jensen and Misha at the Track.

**TEN YEARS AGO**

You were fifteen. Just shy of your sixteenth birthday. Your father had borrowed a tool from your neighbour and he had asked you to return it, he and momma were busy buying groceries.

You’d only gotten out of grocery shopping by the ton of homework that had to be done before you went back to school.

It was hot. Too hot.

You knocked on his door and waited for an answer. You didn’t get one. You knocked again, waiting patiently. Still no answer.

It was too hot for you to be stuck out in the sun, waiting for your neighbour to answer the door and you had homework waiting to be completed. you stepped to turn back, and as you did you noticed his back gate was open.

You wavered on going in that way, but you didn’t want to tell your father you couldn’t deliver it because he hadn’t answered the door, but you also didn’t want your parents to find out you had walked on someone’s property without the proprietor knowing.

Screw it.

You went in.

You walked down the path. It was strange seeing your back yard from this angle.

You continued down the path. There wasn’t a single drop of shade in his back yard and you couldn’t hear anything. Maybe he was out? You could be so dim sometimes. His Dodge Charger was on the drive. He had to be out in his yard.

You came round the corner and saw your neighbour in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist, letting you see a defined V line, leaving not much to your imagination. Something crashed into your gut and swamped your core, leaving fire in your veins.

“Oh my God!” You gasped out, spinning on your heel, turning around.

You heard him chuckle and your whole body flushed with heat.

You suddenly had the need to explain what you were doing. But it was rude to talk and not look at him. You turned around.

“Simon, finished with the drill?”

You looked down, seeing the box in your hands.

“Yeah. I came to drop it off.”

You desperately tried avoiding his bare chest. Tried not to notice the muscle tone in his arms, chest and stomach. Your throat went dry when you caught a glimpse of the trail of hair heading down.

You looked past him.

He held his hand out and you couldn’t help but look. Golden brown from working in the sun, strong, digits thicker than yours and hard callouses on his fingers. Images flashed through your mind of his hands all over your body.

You passed him the drill and made the mistake of looking up at him. sapphire blue eyes hit you and you felt you were drowning and you didn’t want to swim back to surface.

He smiled.

“You have a good afternoon now.”

You nodded and looked down. Another wave of heat smashed into you and you felt a steady low thrum of need ache below.

You rushed out and went straight to your room, locking it behind you.

You breathed hard struggling to regain yourself.

Your hands touched your stomach as you pulsed below, panties wet.

You prayed on your knees after cleaning yourself up.

Two weeks later, on your sixteenth birthday, you gave in to the thoughts and feelings ambushing you and masturbated for the first time.

It took you another two years until you bought your first vibrator and by then you’d already given up on faith.

NOW

“This is yours?”

You went to touch the sleek black Impala, your hand hovering inches away from the ride. You tore your eyes away to look at Jensen. He smiled.

“Yeah. Was my old man’s first.”

“Wow.” You breathed.

Jared looked across between impressed and amused.

“All original, or?” You asked, dying to get under the hood and have a look at her.

“All original-”

“Awesome. Can I?”

You gestured to the car and he nodded. You lit up like a firework on the fourth of July.

You popped the hood and took a look inside.

Sitting on the hood of your car, Misha watched you bend over as you looked inside Jensen’s car. Jensen smacked his arm and raised his eyebrows, nodding his head toward you. Misha just looked at Jensen in annoyance. Sometimes he acted like a horny teenager and not a grown man. Jensen shook his head and Misha turned to watch you again.

You didn’t know they were all looking, intrigued, watching you as you were head first in the car.

“You know what you’re doing, right?” Jared asked.

“Relax, I’m not touching anything. Besides, if you ever want your car fixed I could probably do it. Top mechanic in high school.”

That piqued Jensen’s interest.

“Ninety five litre capacity. Two, fifty turbo-thrift, carburettor fuel system, rear wheel drive. Six cylinder engine and naturally of course, gasoline fuelled.” You spoke to yourself in awe.

It was Misha’s turn to smile. Jensen was impressed.

“What made you want to go into mechanics?” Jared voice filtered through as you continued looking.

“Oh, um, I was always interested in cars and when I took shop I learned I loved cars and fixing them was a passion. I took to it faster than any guy in shop class. They weren’t impressed, not that I cared. It didn’t stop me. And in the end, it didn’t matter if I was better than them, cause they didn’t have a momma who pulled them out of doing what they loved.”

Misha pushed himself off your car when he felt the slightest swelling in his jeans.

“Hey, we gotta go if we wanna make the race.”

You looked at Jared and Jensen.

You looked at your car on Jensen’s driveway and smiled. Your baby would be fine.

“I’m sure Jensen would like his car back.” He said.

You pouted. He fought the urge to give in. Fought the urge to pull you close and suck your lower lip into his mouth. Wanted to hold the back of your head as he kissed you hard. But he didn’t.

“Does that usually work?” He asked.

“I learnt it from you.”

“Ah.”

“Did it work?” You asked.

“Almost.”

You sat in back with Misha. You pulled your big fabric bag onto your lap. You bit your lip and Misha thought you looked like a girl in trouble.

“What’s up?”

You looked at the rear view mirror and saw Jared and Jensen confused as to what was going on.

“I need to change.”

“You look fine.” Jensen said.

“No. I look like I just got out of church-”

“Yeah, all right. Not with that leather jacket.”

“Just start driving and don’t look. And that includes you.” you turned to Misha and pushed his head lightly to make him look out the window.

“Not even a peek?”

“No!”

“All right. Okay.”

You pulled out a simple t-shirt and leggings. It was another of Misha’s he had given you. It was an old grey t-shirt, the American flag and eagle print almost faded.  

You looked up and Jensen shook his head and started the car. You toed your sneakers off and pulled on your leggings, shuffling, pulling the band up to your waist. You smiled. You never thought you’d be doing this with three men in close proximity.

You began to pull your dress over your head, from the corner of your eye you caught Misha turning his head.

“Hey, no looking.”

He turned back round, looking out the window.

You pulled the dress over your head and stuffed it in the bag and you quickly pulled the t-shirt on.

“Dressed?”

“Yup.” You smiled.

“Good. I think I have a crick in my neck.”

You rolled your eyes at Misha.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it. You’re a big boy.”

Misha looked at you.

“I am.” He winked at you.

Jared stifled a laugh and you couldn’t help the heat from rising up on your neck and cheeks.

Since finding a passion for motors and mechanics you had always wanted to go to the Track, but with you being daughter to strict Christians, that was never gonna happen. When Jared approached you the other week and asked, you grabbed the chance.

The Track was way out of town, on the edge of a national park. It wasn’t for boy racers. It wasn’t for kids. It was one hundred percent adulterated.

Illegal, it wasn’t, but it was frowned upon if you were known to attend. It was also completely police free and you heard that a couple times ex cops attended.

Liquor, drugs, fights and sex happened here. But you didn’t care. You had three awesome men by your side. You couldn’t wait to get there and see it all.

You pulled up and you slipped your sneakers on. Already you could hear the deafening roar of engines revving, smell the dizzying fumes of gasoline and you loved it.

Rock music pounded through speakers shaking the ground and you heard over a tannoy the MC announce the next race.

No one would know you here, which meant you could be free, free to explore yourself and free to be who you wanted.

Your door opened and you put on your shades.

“Rockin’ the shades, little lady.” An older man commented.

You smiled and thanked him.

Together you headed to the crowd. Someone had put up bleachers. Jared grabbed a row close to the finish line and Jensen went in search for some drinks.

It was loud and stunk with fumes and you loved it. Jensen came back with drinks in party cups.

“Beers for all. Cheap as hell.”

You cheered.

The older man who had complimented you sat below you and smiled. You tipped your head back and drank your beer.

“The best day ever.” You toasted.

“The best day ever.” They raised their cups and toasted.

The car you wanted to win zoomed cross the line and you screamed as you cheered, jumping up from your seat, Your beer raised high.

“Someone’s having fun.”

The older man turned round. He looked around fifty and had salt and pepper hair. He wasn’t thin, but nor was he big. He was average with a bit of a beer belly, a natural Colorado tan.

You waved and smiled.

“I’m loving it.”

“Good for you, say how about you ditch daddy and his friends and come to the silver Ford truck? Fuck you real good.” He smiled like a sly fox.

A hand came down on my shoulder. And Jared and Jensen went to block me in.

“Oh, none of us are her daddy. And you ain’t going anywhere near her.” Jared threatened.

The bloke raised his hands.

“Woah. Okay. Forget I said anything.”

“Maybe it was too soon?” Jared mentioned.

“What? Are you kidding me? I’m having the time of my life.”

“Well just keep your guard, clearly there are sleazeballs here.”

“Jared. You are, as ever, my knight in shining armour.” You blew him a kiss and winked. You watched as he looked at Misha, his cheeks tanning.

The evening wore on and you drank your fill of cheap beer, ate cheap food and took cheap bets.

You scrunched your slip and waited for the car to come round the corner. It was purple. Bright purple, but a orange Lambo was closing in.

“Come on, come on, come on.”

You bit your lip, your hands raising in anxiety as the purple car hurtled toward the finish line seconds ahead of the orange Lambo. You held your breath and when it crossed you jumped up triumphant. Your bet had paid off.

Misha was up off his seat and the older guy below you threw his cup down in defeat. He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you in, giving you a body crushing hug. Jared and Jensen patted you on the shoulder and congratulated you on your win.

You grabbed Misha’s hand and together you raced down to collect your winnings.

“You’re quite a lucky lady aren’t you. Making the bet not many would have gone for. Good for you,” The bookie took your slip, turned round and he collected your cash. “You earned it.”

One hundred dollars.

You gave Misha fifty.

“What? No.” He gave it you back.

“You sure?” You asked.

“I’m sure.”

Nearby you could hear someone going at it. They were loud and you were getting awkward, but couldn’t stop thinking about you and Misha sharing a tent together.

“Let’s head back.”

Something inside you made you grab Misha’s hand and you pulled him to the campsite. You weaved your way to the tent in the darkness. You unzipped and crawled in.

“Well come on.”

Misha chuckled as he followed you in. You sat side by side and looked at the starry night.

“God, its beautiful.” You whispered.

“It is.” he agreed.

It was that time of night. Everyone was either fucking or fighting.  

“You think J2 are getting themselves a girl?”

“Probably. ‘Bout time too.”

You laughed and smacked his arm lightly.

“You’re terrible.”

He smiled and so did you. You thought about last week, at church, when he had almost kissed you. You were _dying_ to be kissed, not like you’d ever tell him. You laid back and looked up at the perfect night sky. It was cloudless and pollution free. Perfect enough to see the stars.

“I should do this more often.” you said to yourself.

“Hmm, the view is amazing.”

“It is.”

He wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at you. In his t-shirt. You in his t-shirts were a brand new kink for him. It turned him on immensely. He couldn’t give a damn about the sky. It captured none of the beauty you held.

You were slightly drunk.

“I still wanna kiss you.”

The words slipped from your tongue and you watched his eyes widen.

“me too.” he whispered.

You sat up.

“If we do… “ You bit your lip and misha had to refrain from groaning.

“No strings attached. We’re at Track. Nothing will change, unless you want it to-”

“Oh thank god.”

Fire swamped your veins and heat rushed straight to your core. He moved. You moved. Your lips crashed together in a heated and passionate kiss. You pushed your body against his and you felt the swelling in his jeans. You groaned, as your hands raked through his hair. He tasted you and you did the same. Fuck. Your heart was a sledgehammer in your chest and you felt it thrum below steady and strong. He tasted like beer and something good, too good.

You couldn’t get enough and you fought for breath In a tangle of limbs you fell back. You never wanted to stop kissing him. He nipped at your lower lip and you mewled.

He began rocking his hips against yours and you gave a small cry.

“Well, howdy.”

You tore apart from each other, breathing heavily and looked at who had interrupted you.

“Jensen!!” you cried out. “You idiot!!!!”

He chuckled.

“My bad. I didn’t think. Jared’s gonna love this.” He danced off giggling.

“Hey, Jared! You never guess what!”

You groaned and laid back.

“Fuck!”

You punched the sleeping bag you laid on and tried to calm your breathing.

Misha laid back with you and held your hand. You looked at him and smiled.

You didn’t know what you were gonna be outside Track. Things didn’t have to change and it was a one time thing. You smiled. You had a dirty secret.

“They were kissing!” you heard Jared boom into the night.

“So much for our little secret.”

“Still a secret among friends.”

That was true.

You heard Jared and Jensen unzip their tent and a couple minutes later, heard their snores.

You quickly changed, as Misha undressed and you shared a sleeping bag. You snuggled close to Misha and felt his lips on your head. You closed your eyes, his arm over you, holding your hand. He was warm and you liked it. Your eyes began to feel heavy and before you knew it, you were deep asleep.

You woke to the tannoy. You groaned. Misha had turned to the other side and you crawled out the tent and stretched. You didn’t even know the time. Jared popped up out the tent.

“Woah, Jay, you look rough.”

He groaned, yawned and stretched, wiping hair out of his eyes. Then he looked at you.

“Have fun last night?”

He gave you a shit eating grin.

“Hmm, I fancy some bacon. Swamped in delicious grease and I want eggs too.”

He groaned.

“God I hate you.” He went back inside and you smiled. That would teach him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha shows up at readers workplace, afterwards they go for a coffee.

It may have been heated and brief, but that didn’t stop Misha from thinking about the kiss you shared. Feeling your whole body pushed on him, feeling your hot core against the swelling in his jeans. Getting your sounds out of his head wasn’t going to be possible. Your groans, your mewls and your cries visited him night after night as did the reminder of your soft body he had once spooned.

It was a thousand times worse than watching you get off. He had pressed his lips on yours, had grabbed you close, wanted you closer, rocked his fucking hips against your clothed sex. He had been so close and he wanted more. He had held your hand. It may have been small but it fit so perfectly with his. He had pressed his lips to your head so naturally, like he had done it a million times before.

He’d had a slice of heaven. Had a slice of what could be. And he couldn’t stop thinking about being beside you. Thought about you in a white dress. Thought about it so much something ached in the centre of his chest.

He found himself in his workshop at one o’clock in the morning, standing there thinking. He pulled his phone out of his dressing gown pocket and pulled up the conversation between you.

*

It had been days since you had kissed him, yet you were still on cloud nine. You smiled dreamily and hummed along to the radio as you restocked packets of nails onto pegs. It was a slow day. Too slow for your liking. Your boss, Walter wasn’t in and neither was the other assistant. You were on your own.

A classic came on the radio and you couldn’t help singing along.

“Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell, Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high, Mama’s dancin’ with baby on her shoulder, The sun is settin’ like molasses in the sky.”

You swayed along to the first verse and the bridge, and by the time the chorus came you were more than a little into it. Your body grooved to the slow smouldering beat. You walked round the small hardware store singing. The second chorus came and you were in the middle of the store singing your heart out.

“Black velvet, And that little boy’s smile, Black velvet, With that slow southern style, A new religion that’ll bring you to your knees.”

You dropped to your knees, hands balled into fists, head thrown back, eyes shut, giving it your all just like Alannah Myles on the final chorus. You spun on your knees and gasped out loud, freezing.

Your boss, Walter was standing in front of you. Beside him was Misha. Your heart was in your throat as you looked up at both men. In your moment of glory you hadn’t heard the bell chime signifying someone was in the store.

“Heh.” Walter chuckled.

You picked yourself up from the floor, dusting your jeans at the knees.  

“You’re a little firecracker, ain’tcha?”

You blushed.

“I didn’t peg you for a classic rock kinda gal,” He cocked his head. “You’re Simon and Connie’s gal ain’tcha?”

You nodded. “Yessir.”

Misha stepped forward and stood beside you. Your heart began to flutter in your chest. Would doing that give Walter an idea? You didn’t know.

“Do they know about this little talent of yours?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear in nervousness. “They’re aware.”

He smiled and so did you.

You were on your knees. Dear God, why did you have to be on your knees? And why did you have to look at him in that way? He wanted to close his eyes, to get your startled eyes and perfectly parted lips out of his sight. He knew it would be embedded into his mind like a hot branding iron. He kicked himself as his mind went to the gutter.

Before his mind could wonder any further you were getting up.

Your boss headed straight into the back chuckling to himself and you went back to restocking the shelf.

“That was something.”

You looked at him, heat in your cheeks, embarrassed from getting caught.

“Oh God, I can’t believe that happened.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You were amazing. Had us both stunned.”

You cracked a smile.

“What time you get off?”

You looked at the clock. “Half an hour.”

He smiled.

“Did you come in for anything?”

“Sure. I came in to see you.” He walked away and out the shop leaving you speechless.

5 o’clock came and you hung your work apron up and waved goodbye to Walter. He was a nice man. A brother of your fathers friend. He had been the one to put in a good word for you, although your reference from the ranch was glowing.

You walked out the door and saw Misha waiting on the hood of his car. Did he just wait half hour for you?

He pushed himself off and opened the passenger door when you were close enough.

“You waited for me?”

“Of course. I thought we could grab a coffee.”

Did coffee mean something else? Did coffee mean date? She had only heard these references, not experienced them.

You had no qualms about being in public with Misha obviously. You had only been out properly once on your own on your birthday and once with his friends, which you guessed were now your friends, just last week and both times had been pretty far out of town.

You didn’t know why you felt anxious as you buckled yourself in. Maybe it was because you were in town and people knew who you were.

Misha got in and started the car.

You realized this was the first time seeing him drive. First time being in the car with him as the driver. You wished everything wasn’t such a turn on with this man, sadly that wasn’t going to happen as you watched his hands on the wheel. You felt that usual warmth seep into you and you welcomed it.

It was hot and he wore a simple faded t-shirt, he had the visor pulled down shielding his eyes, the sun shining through the window, setting his skin to a golden glow. You pulled the passenger visor down shielding your eyes and tried not to look as he shifted gears. And failed as your eyes drifted towards his arms, looking at the way the muscles bunched.

“Having fun there.”

“Wha- huh?” You looked out the window your hand going up to your neck, rubbing it.

“You can look. I don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t looking.”

He laughed. That sound was quickly becoming your favourite.

“Its cute you think you have to hide how you feel. You don’t need to hide your affections from me.”

You looked at him.

“Misha, I don’t know how to behave around you. I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong. I don’t know how to be myself. I wish I was cool and confident and didn’t give a damn, but I do. I worry about my parents, my mother mainly and the Church. Inside I just want to tell em to screw it. And do what I want. Everyday I’m fighting to be who I wanna be.”

You stopped.

He pulled the car over to an abrupt stop. You put your hands out on the dash as your seatbelt caught and locked stopping you from going forward into the car and being pulled back into your seat.

“Misha!”

“Sorry, but you need to hear this.” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to you, scooting closer to the edge of his seat.

“You’re twenty-five. You can do what ever you want. That means you can go to church if you want. Or don’t. You can date whoever you want without being judged. You can move out if you want. You no longer need to confine yourself to rules that don’t apply. You have the power. Its inside of you.” His hand touched your heart and you looked at it, losing breath.

“I know.”

You so badly wanted to prove to him you could do it.

“I just need to…”

“Let go.” He finished for you.

You nodded and his hand came up cupping your cheek, his thumb stroked underneath your lip and chin, and for those few seconds you leaned into his touch, wanting more, before he pulled his hand away.

“I will always be here.”

“Teach me,” You spoke quietly, you looked at him and your boldness within grew. “Teach me to let go.”

His smile grew. “With pleasure.” He said the word so sinfully, elongating it, making it sound so sexy.

You looked away, a smile playing on your own lips.

“You can’t say things like that.” You mock scolded.

“And why not?” The teasing evident in his voice.

You looked straight at him as he began to drive again. You decided on being frank. “Because it makes me want you.”

You saw his lips curve into a smirk.

“Maybe I want you to want me.”

You shook your head. Damn him.

“What’s wrong with that?” He looked to you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Nothing wrong with that.” You acknowledged.

Misha pulled up to the independent café and parked. He cut the engine and quirked his eyebrows at you, tilting his head, one brow raised higher. He stepped out, giving you a full on display of his denim clad ass.

Praise the Lord. You closed your eyes, mouth going dry and felt the first familiar clench below. You rushed out and you swore you could see a smug grin on his face as he headed inside.

Once inside it was quiet. A couple customers sat at shabby chic tables, enjoying beverages of their choice. Soft acoustic music played in the background.

You joined Misha at the counter, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in, pushing a kiss on your forehead. You stood stunned. And when he asked what you’d care to drink you stumbled over your words.

“Cappuccino,” You finally got out. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest and you could barely concentrate or hear anything else. “Decaf.” you added. You didn’t need the added caffeine.

The barista serving you was a young female and she smiled at Misha which made you jealous, and you didn’t know why. It wasn’t like you and Misha were dating.

“I’ll bring them right over.”

Misha smiled and thanked her. You did too, out of courtesy. Misha walked and you followed. He picked the table in the middle of the café. The chairs were placed at the sides, so you both could easily be recognised of anyone you knew walked in.

“Come take a seat in my office.” He joked.

You shook your head and smiled. He was such a dope at times and sat opposite him.

“So, how was work?” He laced his fingers together looking serious.

You rolled your eyes at him. He knew exactly what happened. He giggled like a child, ruining his ‘serious’ composure.

Misha’s smile faltered and he grabbed your hand. Your breath held as he laced his fingers with yours. A smile twitched his lips until he finally broke out, your hands swaying gently on the table. You blushed furiously, cheeks blossoming, eyes on your hands. Damn, did it feel good. His warm dry thumb traced patterns on your skin, the callouses sending tingles travelling down your body.

Neither of you spoke, both just basking in one another’s glow.

Your drinks arrived and you broke apart, your eyes breaking, your hands unlatching to cradle your warm mugs. You gave the barista a lazy smile. You stood and headed over to get sugar. On your way back you noticed the barista handing Misha a piece of paper before walking away. He smiled and pocketed it.

It was more than a prick of jealousy. Hurt buried inside you and you sat down, opening the packets neatly one by one, ignoring him, and setting them aside before tipping the sugar in, one after the other.

“Y/N?”

You stirred the sugar in.

“Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine.” You said curtly.

He moved his chair closer to you and cupped his hand under your chin, tipping your face up. His lower lip stuck out and his eyes were downcast as he gave you the puppy dog look. You narrowed your eyes at him, his hand eft your face and he scooted closer.

“What I do?” he whispered.

You looked down.

“Nothing.”

From the corner of your eye he looked back to the barista and then back to you.

“Ah. You saw.”

You looked at the entrance.

“It doesn’t matter.”

You felt him brush against you, his hot breath on the shell of your ear.

“I love it when you get jealous.”

His hand touched your knee. That startled you and you looked at him. He smiled innocently and pulled his drink and sweeteners closer.

You had to calm down. Your heart began to return to its regular beat until Misha licked the wooden stirrer. You blanked. Your jealousy vanished replaced with an insatiable lust. Your mind replayed in slow motion again and you were readying, your whole body buzzing, you bit your lip and cradled your mug to keep you from grabbing him and telling him what you wanted right there and then in that coffee shop.  

“That wasn’t fair.” You pouted.

He was torturing you slowly and you loved it.

He smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

“The first rule: Be brave. If I was to flirt with the barista would you let me?”

You glared at him.

“How would you stop me?” He smiled pleasantly.

“Um.”

“You’d be brave. You’d do anything to stop me.”

Right.

“Don’t worry I won’t. don’t be afraid. That’s the second rule. And don’t give a damn.”

“Third rule?”

He shook his head after taking gulp. “Policy. don’t give a damn cause I’m pretty sure they don’t. they might care abut you but they definitely don’t give a damn when they’re telling you what you should and shouldn’t do.”

You sucked in a breath. Your parents were having a party the next day.

“We’re having a party. You should come. Just hop the fence. Oh and bring Jared and Jensen, cause god knows most of my Ma’s friends are gonna be there and church, probably everyone. I don’t wanna be alone.” You pulled the puppy dog on him and your hand went over his.

“For you, absolutely.”

You smiled and enjoyed your coffee. It was nice being with him in this calm atmosphere. He kissed the back of your hand and you laughed your head tipping back, not noticing Ma’s friend Patty walk in.

“Well, this looks cosy.”

Your blood froze and instantly turned to the voice.

Patty. Or Patricia. A good friend of Ma’s. and a gossip. A large lady who tended to wear floral dresses and flats.

“Mr Collins. It’s nice to meet you.” She turned to you.

“Y/N, how is your mother? I’m sure she’ll be glad to know you’re friendly with your neighbour.” Her shit eating grin made you blood stay at sub zero temperatures. She leaned in.

“I’m sure your parents will bless your union, after they have a heart attack first.”

That was it. She was being rude for no reason. You looked at her.

“Shut up. You have no right to say that to me. How _dare_ you assume my relationship with my neighbour. It’s not up to you or anyone else to tell me whether I can or not be good friends with my neighbour and just FYI it is absolutely _none_ of your business who I date.”

You stood up, turned to Misha who was watching in awe.

“Come in, Mish’ lets go.”

You knocked the rest of your coffee back as did he and you both walked out.

You didn’t relax until you were in the car.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe I just did that.” You reclined your chair back and took lungfuls of air.

“Well, I for one am immensely proud of you. Look at you, you were brave, you weren’t afraid and you didn’t give a _damn_ about what she thought. You were fantastic.”

You looked over to him, smiling, heart beating a million miles a minute.

“I don’t know what to say, something just clicked and, and I went for it.” You began to giggle, high off adrenaline.

“I’m glad you did.”

“Can we kiss now?”

It was out before you realised. You clapped your hand over your mouth, then like a maniac, you giggled.

“Look at you being unafraid.”

“Unafraid is my middle name.” You said in a serious yet playful tone.

Misha looked at you. “How unafraid are you?” He tapped his lips.

You wanted to. Oh God you did. You sat up and leaned closer to him, your hand resting on his cheek. You felt his scruff, rough in the palm of your hand, your fingers traced his lips, his own hand threading with yours. His blue eyes were shot with lust and you leaned further in, a smile on your lips.

“Think I’ll wait.”

Misha groaned, the sound rumbling from his chest, such a low delicious noise hit your ear. Your hands travelled down the expanse of his chest. His hands grabbed your wrists stopping you. You looked at him. Eyes almost black, and hunger evident in his expression.

“You better stop before I do something neither of us can walk away from.”

You fell back on your seat. Sweet Jesus. You wanted him. You wanted what was in his pants. It was getting harder to pretend. Getting harder for both of you to continue this dance. You would do it one day. You would one day have the courage to be with who you wanted. You just had to be brave. Be unafraid. And not give a damn.

By God, the vibrator was coming out tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ma holds a garden party

You worried that Patty might have told your mother about you looking cosy with Misha, but as the party drew closer you were confident she hadn’t blabbed. No doubt she would be here tonight. It just meant you keeping your distance.

Your mother insisted on presentation. It was probably why she was uptight as hell. You were more like your elusive aunt. You heard she ran from home and joined the circus. Then again you heard Ma say she got herself in ‘trouble’ more times than she could count. Either way she was easy going and free living.

Your phone rang as you strung up banners. You didn’t recognise the number, but it was definitely a mobile one.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s me Jensen. Misha gave me your number. I hope that’s okay.”

“Mmm, who else did he give it to?”

“Just me.”

“Uhuh.” You didn’t sound so convinced.

“Okay, okay. Jared too.”

You could literally hear him roll his eyes.

“He told me about the barbecue and mentioned I should get in touch. Then I told him I couldn’t and he gave me your number.”

“Are you coming?” You stepped down from the step ladder after tying off the ends.

You heard him chuckle down the line. “Of course, sweetheart. I wouldn’t miss it. Jared too.”

You smiled.

“Hey is that Y/N? Jenson! Dammit! You promised!”

You heard Jared yell at Jenson.

“Am I on speaker?”

“You are now.”

You shook your head, smiling. “You guys.”

“Soooo, how’s Misha?”

“He’s good.”

“Yeah, I bet.” You heard the other meaning in Jared’s tone and rolled your eyes.

“Any new developments in that area?” Jensen asked, teasingly.

“Have you guys kissed some more?”

“Goodbye.”

You heard protests before you ended the phone call. You laughed and pocketed your phone, packed the step ladder away before heading to help your parents lay the clothes on the tables. No way were you having _that_ conversation.

There was no seating plan and your bedroom was off limits, meaning you couldn’t sneak away to get five minutes of peace to yourself. You had to stick it out like Ma and be a good little hostess.

The church folk arrived first and you spent time chatting with them as your parents weren’t quite ready. You poured drinks and chatted idly until the first of Ma’s friends arrived.

Your attention turned to your neighbours back yard. It was quiet. Clearly noone was in there and you wondered where he was. You watched Ma hug her friends and welcome her guests. You wondered when he would arrive.

“Y/N, darling, could you get us some more plates?” Ma called to you, knocking you out of your daydream state.

You nodded and went to collect more plates. You saw the were on the top shelf and sighed, prepared to climb up on the counter. The doorbell interrupted you and you headed to answer it.

You broke out in a smile, and saw Mike walking fast, with his parents, heading straight for your door.

“I’m so glad you could make it.”

“We just had to drop by the garage.” Jensen said, and all three lifted up a six pack of beer in each hand.

You gave a sharp laugh. “You’re sorely mistaken if its gonna be _that_ kind of party.”

You ushered them in and welcomed Mike and his parents. You directed them straight to the back yard but called Misha back.

“I need you help.”

You could see Jared and Jensen snickering like a couple of teenage girls.

“Of course.”

He followed you back into the kitchen. Once over the threshold you felt his hand go to the small of your back. You bit your lip, but didn’t say anything. You stopped and his hands massaged your shoulders, feeling him press his body against you. You closed your eyes, your head resting against his chest.

Christ, anybody could catch you. You needed to be careful. Your thoughts were swiftly moving from collecting plates to leading him into your bedroom.  

“I imagine there was a reason for you pulling me in here?” He murmured nuzzling against your neck.

You hmmed and allowed yourself a couple more seconds of his warmth. His hands held your hips. You often thought about what it would feel like if he slipped his hands up your skirt. The thought made you want to shudder in delight.

You pointed to the plates your mother wanted.

“I can’t reach.”

You felt his smile against your ear. “I remember when I had to reach up to get the lemonade.”

His scruff scratched your soft skin.

You moved away from him as he reached the top shelf.

“You called me short stack.”

He chuckled.

He placed the plates on the counter. You turned to thank him. His hands gripped your waist as he lifted you up on the counter.

“Misha.” You whispered warningly.

Anybody could walk in.

“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about me.”

You gulped and looked to the back door. He guided your face back to him.

“I have.” You admitted.

“Uh huh.”

His hands on your knees pushed your legs open. Something hot and cold hit you dead centre of your chest and travelled down to your core, making you suppress a gasp. He closed himself in, his hands stroking your clothed thighs. You held in a breath.

He pulled you closer to the edge.

“Mish’” You whined as he nudged closer to you. He peppered kisses along your jaw.

“You could always stop me.” his voice low and husky. Would you? You didn’t have the strength to do that.

Your hands clutched to his t-shirt and tightened when a hand slipped under your dress skirt.

He slid his hand up slowly and you felt your sex clench multiple times, readying for him. His touch was warm and dry on your bare skin, his calluses rough and hard compared to your delicate satin-like skin . Your tummy somersaulted as he closed in.

You weren’t aware of your legs wrapping around him, you rested your forehead on his shoulder, your breath almost laboured.

His knuckled grazed your pantied sex and you gripped him tighter. Below you were wet and you knew he could feel how moist your panties were.

You looked at him with hooded eyes and parted lips. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted to take him to your bedroom and have some real fun.

“Y/N? Where are you with those plates?”

Your mothers voice was like a splash of ice water shocking your system. You pushed Misha away and jumped down from the counter. Misha picked up the plates and handed them to you just as your mother walked in the kitchen.

You looked at Ma with a big smile on your face.

“I asked Misha to help, cos they were on the top shelf. These are the ones you wanted right?”

Ma nodded and took them off you. She looked between you and Misha, then turned to leave.

You waited until she was well out of earshot.

“That was way too close. We need to be more careful.”

He smirked and shrugged, his head tilting to one side.

“Part of the thrill is knowing you could get caught.”

You shook your head. You brushed down your dress and twirled your ponytail around your finger, letting it flick out and headed out.

Ma cornered you.

“Maybe you should spend a little less time with Misha, hon, and spend some more time with Mike. You seem pretty friendly with his friends too, I worry with the age difference. You should hang out with the younger members. They’ll understand you more ”

The party blew. It sucked. It wasn’t even a party, it was more of a get together, with all your parents friends and church members. Pastor Jim was there. So, in reality, it was a freaking fellowship.

You stood there with your glass of wine. It wasn’t even the good stuff. You were only showing your face. You observed from where you were. You could see Pastor Jim making his rounds, your parents talking to their church friends, the younger members all together, including Mike. Jared, Jensen and Misha were in a small group to themselves.

Jensen was stuffing his face with burger and laughing with his pals.

You were the only one standing on your own. You saw Mike make his way round the groups. He missed out your friends and you felt annoyance simmer. That was rude of him. He may not know them, but he didn’t have to full on avoid them.

You marched your way over to your friends.

“Your momma’s looking.”

You peeked round and sure enough she was. You turned to them and sighed.

“She thinks I spend too much time with you and wants me to spend more time with Mike. And the other younger members.”

“We’re always going to be here. By God, I don’t want to sound like your momma, but spending time with other people isn’t be such a bad thing.”

“I’m tired of making other people happy, Jar. It’s exhausting.”

Jared opened his mouth to talk but the tapping on a microphone caught your attention. You turned around to it.

“Brethren. Our fellow brother in Christ, Michael wants to say a few words.”

People applauded and you were a little suspicious.

“Brother and sisters in Christ, guests and friends. I want to take this time to share a few words.

Love.

Love is kind. It is patient. It’s not boastful or jealous or proud nor is it rude. Love never gives up. Never loses faith. Love is always hopeful. Love endures.”

_Ohshit._

You stepped behind your friends, letting them be a wall, blocking your view.

“I’d like to ask Y/N to join me.”

You stayed behind them, vehement on staying where you were. Someone grabbed you, yanking your arm and pulling you towards Mike.

_Shitshitshishit._

You stood there, a deer in headlights, heart pounding. You saw Mike turn to you, smiling. You felt your heart in your throat.

_Don’t do it, Mike. Oh, God, don’t do it._

“We’ve known each other for a long time. Been friends for a long time. Since childhood. We work well together in worship. I wanted to take our friendship to the next level,” He dropped to one knee and your heart plummeted.

You looked around and saw your parents glee, saw Mikes parents’ glee. You saw everyone hold their hands to their hearts. You daren’t look at Misha.

“This is a promise ring. It means to promise oneself to each other until marriage. Will you do me the honour of becoming my girlfriend?”

You gulped and your parents walked closer.

Shit.

Your throat had closed up and you couldn’t speak.

“Say yes!” someone shouted.

You were forced to confront your feelings.

“I can’t.”

Your words were quiet, but loud enough to be heard through the mic. You felt the initial release.

“I’m sorry?” he stood.

“I can’t, Mike. I’m sorry.”

You were starting to sweat and not from the heat. There was a collective murmur.

You walked away. A hand wrapped around your arm stopping you. You looked up. It was Ma.

“You cant embarrass someone like that?!” She hissed.

That was it. You had had enough. You pulled your arm from her grip.

“You’d rather I say yes to a guy I don’t like in that way? What about me, Ma? I have feelings too. I am not forcing myself to be with him and neither are you. And for the record I have never been interested in him that way. He’s intrusive and frankly can be quite rude.

And I can’t _stand_ the way I get made to sing. It’s my voice. Rock isn’t from the devil you know and it annoys me how I’m berated for my voice.

I love you Ma, but I can’t. I don’t believe. I don’t share your faith and I can’t see myself being trapped in a marriage I don’t want. I don’t want to run around after three babies. I don’t want to be stuck at home. I want to be doing something I enjoy.”

Ma just looked at you. You wanted her to say something.

“Do you even want to believe?”

“No, Ma.”

“Then, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can support you anymore.”

It should have hit you, but it didn’t. You nodded.

“I’ll collect my things.”

You left them alone after and you downed your wine, making your way over to Jared, Jensen and Misha.

“You okay?”

You nodded.

“Sooo, my momma just kicked me out. Said she didn’t want me living there if I didn’t want to believe, so I guess I’m homeless now.”

“No. You will never be homeless.” Jensen said.

You put your arms around his Jared and Jensen’s waist, pulling them in, closer.

“I take back what I said earlier, about you spending time with other people.”

“I know you do, Jared,” you looked to Misha. “And hey if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have confronted the issue bang on. Admittedly, only because it was forced upon me. But still. I did it. I’m out. I don’t wanna live that life anymore. I got my guys and I’m happy.”

Misha smiled.

“You can choose who you stay with, and if you choose Misha, are you sure you want to be that close to you parents?”

You sighed.

“Damn. I don’t hate them but it’ll be awkward as hell. And Jared, why you all the way across town for?”

“Aren’t I the lucky guy.” Jensen chuckled.

“We can all hang out. All the time. It’ll be fun.”

“Of course.”

The guys helped you pack. You packed clothes, and certain items you needed and also wanted. You didn’t have that much to begin with. You were under the limit and it was a collective decision to take Jared’s truck.

It was a bit of a squeeze, being wedged with three men, and in the end you pushed Jensen out to sit out back. As you drove, Jensen gave directions.

“You know Y/N, I have a small apartment you could rent. Its not great but its great for first time renters. Rent would be cheap too, I could even push it down a little for you. What do you say? I could have the tenancy in your name in about a week.”

You looked at him and smiled. “For real?”

“Yeah, for real. It needs some small repairs at the moment, but that shouldn’t take too long to organise.”

“Jared, you’re a real hero.”

He blushed. “Nah.”

You felt Misha’s smile on you. Did that mean you could finally explore your relationship with him? Your heart beat a little faster thinking about it. You were excited and nervous.

You pulled into Jensen’s and your jaw dropped.

“Jensen!!!”

“Wha? It’s not that big.” He said offhand in the back of the truck.

“No. It’s fucking huge!”

“Gettattovit.”

They helped you put your things in the guest room and together you celebrated your independence. You clinked beers together and chilled out. 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter includes sexual assault. Please skip over if you feel you are unable to read through.

It had been just over a week since you moved out of your parents and into your tiny apartment.

Jared wasn’t kidding when he said it was small. Small was a exaggeration. The walls were a dingy grey and the flooring was the cheapest and thinnest brown carpeting you had ever seen, with cheap tile in the kitchenette. Misha and his two friends, one of whom was your landlord, Jared and Jensen really came through finding appliances and furniture for you.  

Jared mentioned you could decorate it to your liking and even he would help out with some of the costs in finding a professional to do the work.

It was yours. And you loved it.

Ma visited once bringing Mike with her. Mike seemed a bit put out. He looked at you with sympathy; at how you dressed and how you lived and it irked you. You didn’t give a damn about that, plus you didn’t really care about Mike. Mike was a big boy he could take care of himself.

Your mother sniffed at how untidy it was.

“How are you holding up?”

“Good, Ma.”

She nodded, still standing in the middle of your apartment. She looked around and you could see the cogs in her head working as she tried to figure out where to sit.

“Want a drink? Or anything?” You offered. She was your mother and you didn’t see eye to eye on things, but that didn’t mean you could be a bad hostess.

“No, no, thanks. I’ll be leaving in a bit.”

You stood there not willing to relax until you felt comfortable.

“I heard you resigned at the Walter’s store. Your father put a good word in for you to get that job. Your father’s feeling depreciated.”

“I quit because I got my old job back.”

“The ranch job? That’s no job for a woman.”

You smiled sweetly.

“Well, that’s not up to you anymore, is it?”

She sniffed and you stood your ground.

“There’s rumours going around,” Your mother started. Ah, this was why she was really here. To get the truth. To put the rumours to bed. “Those men you associate yourself with, people are saying you’re having… certain relations with them. I tell myself that’s not true, because, well they’re much older than you.”

“And who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Is it true?”

“No, Ma, of course not. For one, one of those men, who just so happens to be a good friend of mine, is my landlord.”

“What about the other two?”

“They’re my friends, Ma.”

“Really? What about Misha? A good friend of mine told me they saw you together, holding hands and looking very cosy.”

You put your hands on your hips.

“Mother, that’s no one’s business. Not yours, not Patricia’s, not anyone’s.”

“I didn’t say a name.”

You waved a hand. “ That’s neither here nor there. Why is Mike here?”

Your mother looked away and walked over to the window and looked out.

“Ma, why is Mike here?” you asked that little bit louder.

 “He wanted to come along with me. I should go so you two can talk.”

Ma turned round and looked at you.

“I’ll pray for you.”

She walked out leaving you alone with Mike.

You got it then. Your mother was using Mike as a ploy for you to start returning to church, to return to the faith.

“We miss you Y/N. I miss you.”

You saw him glance down. Damn. You knew you should have worn a bra today. You glared a little.

“We’re worried about you. I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re veering down a path you can’t come back from. One I can’t save you from.”

“I don’t need saving, Mike.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Everyone needs saving, and this path, it’s dangerous. There’s temptation everywhere. Sin everywhere. I can see you’ve already let it in.”

You cocked your head.

“Excuse me?”

He held up a hand. He hadn’t finished.

“I mean, why else would you want to stay in a hovel like this? I want you to know, I can help you on you way back to redemption.”

You looked at him like he was crazy.

“How much did Ma pay you?”

“She didn’t pay me, Y/N.”

You sighed and backed against the wall, tired.

“I’m not wasting twelve years of my life, Y/N.”

Huh? You looked up and he was advancing to you.

“I need you to come back. And I need you to be the good little Christian girl you once were.”

There was something off about him but you couldn’t quite place it. You didn’t like the hint of threat in his voice. Before you could speak he had his hand wrapped around your throat, pushing you flat against the wall. You grabbed his arm, your eyes wide, heart pounding, panic inducing. He pushed his crotch against you and you found out at that moment that he was hard. You were horrified and disgusted at the same time.

 _ _This wasn’t right. This wasn’t happening. THIS CAN NOT HAPPENING!!__  

You felt his hot breath on your cheek and his fingers flex around your throat, squeezing a little tighter. You tried struggling and Mike smacked the palm of his hand against your cheek. You stopped, shocked.

“Isn’t this what whores like?”

He pushed his hand up under your shirt and grabbed your right breast harshly, rolling it through his hand, tugging. You hissed a breath in as he hurt you.

__Oh God, ohgodohgodohgodohgod!! OH GOOOOODDDDD!!_ _

“Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting? All along? To be a dirty little slut. Isn’t that what girls like you are? Sluts?”

__Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit! SHIIT!!!_ _

“Does this turn you on?”

You couldn’t shake your head and you struggled to breathe. Your fingers tightened on his arm, you were minutes before tapping out as if it were a wrestle.

“Miiike.”

You could barely speak.

“Do you want to be a cheap little skank? Is that it? You want to let men fuck you one right after the other?

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. He twisted your nipple and you cried out in pain your foot stamping the ground. He pushed up against you.

“I bet you like it rough.”

 _ _Help!__  Your mind screamed for help.

Mike had surprising strength for a scrawny guy. There was something wrong with him. He ground his hard on against you and you tried to push him away.

“Don’t fight it. I know you want it.”

You wanted to throw up.

“I’ve seen you hang out with those other guys. Do you all get together and have a fucking gangbang? Is that it? Oh I bet you enjoy that. Taking all their cocks, being the dirty fucking whore you are.” He chuckled darkly.

He meant Jared and Jensen. Had he been spying on you?

“Jusu-”

“Jesus won’t help you now. He don’t help little cocksucking sluts.”

You had to get away before he did something even more drastic. You had come too far to let a scumbag sexually assault you. You had to get away.

His hand left your breast and slid down your stomach. You were wearing the shorts Misha had given you.

__NONONONONONONO!!!_ _

They were tied but they weren’t tight, and when his hand slipped below the waist band you grabbed at his wrist. It took both hands. You struggled with him.

“Don’t you want me to touch your cunt?”

It took every ounce of your strength to lift his hand an centimetre back up.

“You let other men, why not me? Am I not good enough for you?”

He plunged his hand down and when you felt his fingers touch, you freaked. You tried pulling his hand away. Tried pushing him away. Tried twisting his arm, but his hand squeezed your neck. You slapped your hand to his forehead, slipped and grabbed his hair, taking in sips of air. He wasn’t going to win. You weren’t going to lose your virginity to him. You weren’t going to let him.

“You’re just a weak little girl. A dirty bitch who wants her own way,” He stroked you. You felt sick. Violated. “Tough shit. I ain’t wasting twelve years. We were meant to be. ” His grin was sick and twisted.

He went in raw. Two fingers. You grit your teeth, letting out a grunt of pain. You kicked out and he thrust harder. You cried out. You had to stop this. Wanted to, needed to.

You held fast to his hair. It was now or never. You weren’t about to throw your life away. You were brave. You were a fighter. You were a winner.

You lifted your knee up fast and hit his groin hard.

He let go. You gasped in breaths as he groaned cupping his loins.

“You stupid little bitch.” He spat.

“I’m not weak.” You pushed him away from you and he fell to his knees.

Your door slammed open and you saw Jensen the same second you pulled back your fist and socked Mike one. Hard. You cried out from the impact. Mike fell to a heap on the floor.

“Remind me to never get on your wrong side. I heard you shout,” He looked to Mike on the floor, as he struggled to shake it off. “What the hell happened?”

He lifted your chin up. His expression changed when he saw the hand print around your throat. Had he walked in moments before he would have seen Mike assaulting you.

“Did he strangle you?”

You gulped. You had to tell him.

“Bastard sexually assaulted me.”

Below, you heard a cough. “That’s a lie.”

“WHAT?!!”

“Oh, no it’s okay now, Jay. I got him. Doubt he’ll do it again.” You looked at your hand. You stretched it. It didn’t feel broken. You hadn’t heard a crack. It had obviously been the force of the punch.

“Y/N this is serious. I’m calling Misha. JARED!!!!”

He yelled out the door. God he was gonna get you issued with a noise complaint. He looked down and saw Mike scuttle out. He looked at you then the door, his mind fighting every instinct he had to run after Mike and beat him to a pulp.

For some reason him calling Misha was worse than calling the cops.

“Oh God, no! I don’t want him to think I’m a stupid little woman, who can’t handle her own shit, Jay.”

Jensen put his hands on your shoulders and you both sat down.

“You can handle your own. I just saw that. But you still gotta do something. Sexual assault is serious. He could do it to any other woman after you. And I know you don’t want that on your conscious. Now I’m gonna call Misha.”

 The scumbag deserved everything he got. You were glad you hadn’t been infatuated with him. Glad that he wasn’t your type.

Jared came in and Jensen told Jared what happened. He looked huge in your tiny apartment. Misha was going to be hella mad. 

 

Misha slammed the door open. He looked furious. You had never seen him mad before. He looked beautiful in his rage. His bright blue eyes dark ready to kick ass. Jensen pulled Misha off to one side. He yelled in your tiny kitchen then came rushing back out, falling to his knees in front of you. He cupped your face, looked at your neck. He saw the marks.

“I should kill him for what he did.”

“I’m fine. Honest. I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.”

“Why, what did you do?”

“I kneed him in the balls and punched him.”

“She did. I saw her do it. She was magnificent.” Jensen said, like he was proud of you.

“I still wanna kill him. Where did he touch you?”

You took in a breath, closed your eyes and began.

“He strangled me, groped my boob, ground his hard on against me, all whilst making vulgar accusations.”

That hadn’t been the hardest part. Telling him that was easy. You knew the second you told him his heart would break. You took in a deep breath and looked at the three men in the room. It would hurt all of them.

“He put his hand down my pants,” You sighed. “He touched me. Fingered me if you want me to be specific.”

Misha felt the anger burn all over him. His hands balled into fists, knuckles quickly turning white. He grit his teeth in an effort to stop himself from screaming and rampaging. He could feel his chest tighten into a knot as the fire consumed him inside.

Mike had been here. Mike had assaulted her. Mike had touched her without her consent. Had forced himself upon her in her own home. He shook, containing and controlling it.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He said more to himself, rather than to anybody.

You looked to Jensen. “ That’s what you heard. ”

There was no way he was going to let Mike get away with it.

“What were you doing here, guys?”

“Oh, me and Jared got you something. I was coming up to see where it could go. Its on the back of my pickup.”

“We’re going to the cops. Now.”

You slipped into your room to survey the damage he had done. Your breast was tender and your nipple hurt. God there was even bruising and some swelling.

“Fuuuck.”

There was a knock on your bedroom door.

“One moment.”

“Misha’s hellbent, baby girl. There isn’t time. Put on flip-flops, we gotta roll, sweetie.”

Shit.

You didn’t get five minutes. You didn’t even have time to slip on a bra. You scrubbed your face with your hands and slipped your feet into flip-flops, grabbed your bag and jacket and followed Jensen out. The further you got, you could hear Misha raving and Jared trying to calm him down.

 

You sat in back with Misha as Jensen drove, noticing his white knuckles and hunched shoulders. It was silent and a sombre atmosphere. You turned to Misha and held up your hand which still hurt.

“Does this look broken?”

You heard Jared chuckle, saw Jensen smile. Misha looked at you and touched your hand.

He felt around for broken bones.

“I think you’ve sprained it.”

“Maybe we should stop by the hospital to get you checked out?” Jensen suggested.

“We need to see if you’re okay. Medically.” Jared added.

You just nodded.

It still hadn’t hit you yet. It hadn’t gone in fully. You understood the dire urgency of the matter but you felt you could wait.

 

Jensen pulled into the station, parking the car and you all got out. You felt Misha’s hand on your back as you made your way in. Jared and Jensen were right behind you.

The officer at the front desk, was reading a magazine and looked bored as hell. He looked up. “Help you?”

“I’d like to report a sexual assault.”

There the words were out now. There was no going back. Now it was serious. Now you felt a little weird, something uncomfortable settling in your stomach and you were glad all three were here for support.

The officer’s demeanor changed. He stopped looking bored and looked serious. He looked at the three guys you were with.

“An officer will be with you in one moment to take your statement.”

You nodded and sat down.

You didn’t wait long. An officer was out within minutes and you all walked into an interview room.

You started from the very beginning from when Ma arrived, recounting every tiny detail that could be relevant. You didn’t want to leave anything out, you knew it was of vital importance. Jared, Jensen and Misha were like guard dogs, not budging, not wanting to leave you alone. You spoke about your relationship with Mike and told them how he proposed to you and the after effect.

 

You didn’t want to go to the hospital. You didn’t want people staring at you. You didn’t want to see the looks of sympathy on their faces after they found out what happened.

You stood outside the station precinct with your hands in your jacket pockets. You blew your lips, the noise sounding like a horses neigh. You knew they only meant well but you didn’t need the added pity.

The police dispatched officers to question Mike. You didn’t know if you were ready to go to court. didn’t know if you were ready to stand and talk publicly about the incident. You knew Misha wouldn’t rest until Mike was rotting in a jail cell.

You could picture it, but you knew it meant Misha would push and push for it. Jensen and Jared too. It wasn’t something you were wholly keen on. Just stepping out and coming forth about it was enough for you. Mike would never bother you again and that was all you wanted. To get out.

They were all in there now making their statements. You wondered whether Misha would tell them about the kind of relationship you had with him. You didn’t know the thought made you anxious. It wasn’t like it was illegal. You guess you could say what you had with Misha was a flirtationship. You might have intentions of going further. Maybe Misha did too, but both of you hadn’t really made a move, albeit you both sharing a kiss or two.

You heard the door open and looked behind you seeing Misha walk out first, then Jared and Jensen lastly. You gave a small smile and he returned it.

“Ready to go to the hospital?.” he casually asked making his way to you.

“Not really.”

He wrapped his hand around your wrist, and you allowed his thumb to stroke your skin. His head dropped closer to yours.

“It’s important.”

His voice was gentle and soft. And it made you feel ten times worse. You knew. But you couldn’t face it.

“I know.”

“But?”

“I just want to crash. I don’t want to go to a hospital and have people look at me in pity or sad sympathetic eyes. Going home isn’t an option,” you looked at him, running a hand through your hair. “I fancy a beer.”

He eyed you. “Y/N…-”

“What? Don’t say it. Don’t say I’m avoiding what really matters. Because I don’t want to think about it. I just want to forget.”

“That might not be a bad idea,” Jared spoke up. “Chilling and forgetting today.”

You would never forget. Today’s unfortunate incident would forever be etched in your brain. All you could do was move on.

Misha looked from you and Jared. You could see he was fighting a battle in his head. Caught between wanting you to go to the hospital and letting you ‘forget’.

“Please, Misha.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

 

The bar was filled with regulars and you were already downing your fifth beer. Misha wanted to drink. He did, he __really__  did. But keeping one eye on you became priority. You should have gone to the hospital. You should have been checked over, but he didn’t want to push it. He didn’t want to push you.

It was clear to see you hadn’t found a proper way of coping. That would happen, given time. He wasn’t overly worried your life would fall into disarray. He was slightly worried because you had just managed to get your life on track, to where ever you wanted and now you were more or less derailed. He watched you down yet another beer.

“Come on Misha, drink something.” you clapped his shoulder.

He picked up his Coke. “I got a drink.”

“Nooooo, Misha. A real drink. An alcoholic one.”

“If we both drink, none of us will drive. Besides, someone has to chauffeur you around.”

You snorted.

“I’ma get another. You wan’ anythin’?”

He shook his head. You shrugged and got up, making your way to the bar. You weren’t unsteady yet, but you were slightly wobbly Misha noticed. He didn’t know at what point he should call it. Right now he felt like an enabler. All he wanted was to cleanse your mind, remove all the badness and keep you happy.

Keeping you happy remained key. Which was why he was here instead of J2. They couldn’t watch you day drink. Had work to get back to. Misha had work, had commissions he needed to finish, pieces fr the market too he had to get done, but that wasn’t important. You were.

You plonked yourself down beside him and he watched you drink.

“Maybe you should slow down a little?” he suggested.

“I’m fine, Mish’.”

The last time you were with him at a bar, you hadn’t made it past four beers and here you were on your sixth. This was some improvement and it looked like you weren’t stopping any time soon.

At your tenth Misha decided to cut you off and suffer the consequences.

He gripped your hands, ignoring the white hot spark that ran straight down his spine, nestling deep in his gut, and pulled you up. You fell against him, hitting his chest with your head and groaned.

“You all right?”

“What- what are you doing?” you slurred.

 Your hands rested against his pecs. You swayed, and regained your balance by grabbing his shirt. Misha placed his hand on your lower back keeping you balanced so you didn’t pull him down with you.

“We’re leaving.”

You looked at him. You were clearly smashed. You shook your head and stumbled on the spot.

“No. No.” you barely managed to get the words out.

“Yes.”

You pulled yourself from his grasp.

“I’m staying.”

He had to hand it to you. Even in your drunken state you were defiant.

“Y/N, trust me when I say, it’s what’s best for you.”

You poked his chest. Probably a little too hard as he rubbed the spot with his hand.

“No. I have had way too many people tell me what’s good for me, what’s best for me. Well. Not. Anymore. Mister. I know what’s best for me. Only me. Not anybody else.”

He wanted to applaud you. It made sense. Why did you have to have a pearl of wisdom when you were flat out drunk? Then it occurred to him. He could spin the truth. That way he could get you to leave.

“We’re leaving here, so we can continue at mine.”

You gave him a dopey smile.

“Oh, I like that.” you stood on your tiptoes. You could barely hold yourself up. He wrapped his arm around you bringing you close. “And you’re gonna drink with me. It’ll be a party for two!”

Bless your heart. You didn’t know everything and clearly you didn’t know what ‘party for two’ meant, otherwise you wouldn’t have used it. Your enthusiasm was a bit much for the patrons and the bartender as they sent looks Misha’s way. He got the message. It was time to leave.

 

He drove and you sat beside him, taking over the radio. You flipped between stations until you found a belter, then proceeded to turn up the volume.

He turned it down a little so he could hear himself think. You pouted at him. He had to kick himself to not fall for it. Misha swerved a little too sharply for both your liking, dodging a vehicle who cut in front without using their indicators. Your hand gripped his leg as your other grabbed the hand rail on the car ceiling. He looked at you, your face was pale, your eyes scrunched shut.

Lust kicked his gut hard as your hand continued to press on his leg. Your fingers lightened their grip but only to then fluctuate and he felt his cock harden and tighten painfully in the confined space of his jeans. He breathed through the desire throbbing in his balls.

You let out a held in breath, your hand not leaving his leg.

“You had to do that?” you groaned.

“Drivers these days, you think they’d have heard of the little ingenious invention called an indicator .”

You nodded feeling your stomach finally settle down.

You were both glad as you reached his house.

Your hand slid off his leg as you stepped out the car. Misha gave a quick relieved sigh before getting out himself. You were leaning precariously to one side, teetering on your feet.

“The worlds gone sideways!”

Misha chuckled and helped you upright.

“Come on Little Miss Leaning Tower of Piza.” He unlocked the door and saw your mom from the corner of his eye. She was opening her windows to water the flowers hanging from her window. He hurried you inside and closed the door before she saw you and the state you were in.

“Ooh, someone’s eager.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head and gave a small chuckle. You tripped over the foot of a table beside the door leading into the front room.  You would have fell if it wasn’t for Misha grabbing you and pulling you back to him, preventing your fall.

“That was a close one.”

He agreed. Thank God you hadn’t seemed to notice the bulge in his jeans. Or feel. You were totally oblivious. And for that he was grateful.

The back of your head rested against his chest and his hands wrapped round your arms helping you forward. The feeling ebbed in the centre of him again. The deep seated feeling of care for you. But it was more than that. It pang harder than ever and he tried to ignore it.

You giggled as he walked you over to the sofa.

“Have a seat.” he offered and let you drop on the sofa.

“What about some music?” you suggested as he took a step back.

“There will be.”

Misha went into the kitchen and began ‘looking’ for alcohol. He had to make it seem realistic. He hated to lie to you but he couldn’t let you deteriorate. Plus he could never be the type of guy to take advantage of you. Right now you were vulnerable and he needed to get you to think clearly.

 “Hmmm… oh dear…it seems I am all out.”

“Wha, about the wine rack?”

“Checked there. Nope. There’s nothing.”

He heard your audible groan from his couch and soon came back with two steaming mugs of coffee.

“Just how you like it.”

You gave him that dopey smile again and took the hot mug, only to scald your fingers and put it down on the side table, hissing in pain.

“Did I mention it’s hot?” he teased.

He sat beside you, relieved that his boner had dissipated. Your head leaned against his arm.

You felt your eyes droop and begin to get heavy.

“You’re too good to me, Misha.” you mumbled against him. Your hands gripped his t-shirt as you slid closer to him. You looked at him through half open eyes.

“I’m just doing my best-”

Without thinking you had pulled him to you and pressed your lips to his. You kissed his lips once before he pulled away from you.

“Y/N, no…”

You looked at him and suddenly you were very sober. Reality seeped into your bones and your chest tightened as a lump formed in your throat.

“You don’t want me…” your voice was quiet and heartbroken. It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement. Figures. After Mike, you were damaged goods. Misha didn’t want you anymore.

You stood and made a hasty exit, your eyes blurring from the tears forming quickly.

“No, Y/N, wait. Don’t go.”

You were out. And running down the street. Adrenaline pumping through your blood, urging you on. You felt sick but you couldn’t stop.

At home you curled up on your bed, making yourself as small as possible, your heart shredding as you let it out through your tears. He didn’t share the same feelings you did.

Your phone buzzed constantly and you ignored it.

This was officially the worst day of your life. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

It was over. The relationship that could have been was over before it started. You curled up over your duvet on your bed, replaying the moment over and over.

You were torturing yourself, but you couldn’t stop it. It hurt. Every time it cut deep like a knife and the tears came again.

Beside you your phone buzzed. It had been doing that all week, non stop.

You must have dozed off, because when you came to the evening sun was streaming in through your bedroom window. It was damn hot. Too hot for you right now. You sat up groggy, tired and a little hungry. You wiped your eyes and swung your legs off the side of the bed. Standing up, you stretched your tired bones and wet your dry mouth. Your bare feet padded on the thin carpet as you made the short distance to the front room.

“You’re awake.”

You jumped and turned to the voice. It was Jared.

“What are you doing here?” your voice was a little deep and scratchy from only just waking up. You rubbed your eyes pulling the sleep out of them.

“I came to see how you are. And to collect rent.”

Rent. Shit. You hadn’t been at work all week. You hadn’t even called in. As far as Walter knew you were MIA. You pointed to a small corner table with a brown paper envelope on.

“Rent’s there.”

You decided to go back to bed. Hunger had evaded and you were way too tired to deal with Jared.

“Y/N, sit down, and tell me what happened. Haven’t you been getting Misha’s texts? I know for a fact you haven’t responded to mine or Jensen’s.”

At the mention of his name, the lump tightened and you looked away as tears pricked your eyes.

“What’s going on with you? Misha tells me you haven’t been at work all week.”

You sat down in an armchair and huddled up. The thought of bringing it up made the words get stuck in your throat.

“Misha… doesn’t want me.”

Your fingers gripped the cushion and you stuffed your face into it, shuddering out your tears. Saying it hurt a lot more than thinking about it over and over.

“What?”

You couldn’t repeat it. The restriction in your throat hurt as did the pain inside.

You heard the creek of Jared knees as he knelt down and felt his form close to you.

“Honey, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I know for a fact he’s crazy about you. He talks about you all the time. Did something happen?”

He slowly removed the cushion you hid behind and saw your red tear ridden eyes and the utter brokenness you carried.

“He rejected me.”

He gave you a confused look, but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

With a shaky breath you did.

“I came onto him. We had came from the bar, back to his. We were gonna continue drinking. Now I know he was wanting me to sober up, but I just wanted to forget. I don’t know what came over me. I kissed him and he pulled away, instantly. He didn’t want me. Doesn’t. Want. Me.”

Jared cupped your face with his large hands. They were humongous, bigger than Misha’s. You let his hands cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away tears. You drew in shaky breaths.

“I can tell you now,” The timbre of his vice was soft. “You have it all wrong.”

You looked down, your eyes on the cushion in front of you.

“I know it was last week. Misha has been desperate to get hold of you, honey. He didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of you. You were drunk. Look at me Y/N,” You sniffed and lifted your eyes to him. “It wasn’t wrong of you, but Misha didn’t feel that the time was right.”

He let go of your face and pulled out his phone.

“I’ve had numerous calls and texts from him. He wants to talk to you. You should talk to him. I won’t make you, I’ll let you decide on that.”

You nodded, silently. Dutifully.

“Walter has also stated he’ll allow the week off as sick, with pay, all you have to do is turn up Monday morning. Misha also wanted me to pass this on, the police have convicted Mike of sexual assault. Turns out that his father is violent to his mother, so we think Mike grew up with it. He was probably conditioned to keep it a secret.”

You were shocked at that.

“Wait, what? Really? Is Sheila okay?”

Jared pulled a face. “Sheila… she’s finding it tough on her own. It’s a huge adjustment for her. Obviously in time, it’ll begin to get easier.”

“How? There’s no evidence.”

He gave you a look.

“Honey, Misha can be pretty ruthless when he wants to be.”

He stood up, his knees creaking again.

“I should also tell you, your mother hasn’t been the nicest person to Misha.”

You looked up at him. Christ he was so tall. Your brow furrowed. You couldn’t imagine Ma being horrible to anyone.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t believe Mike assaulted you. She also believes he’s having… certain… relations with you. He’s being harassed.”

Your jaw tensed. You couldn’t believe the absurdity of her. His words quickly fired you up, making your heart pump faster and your blood heating up to a roaring flame.

“That… that… urgh.” You stood up and put your flip flops on, grabbed your keys and your bag.

“Whoa, where are you going?”

“To my mothers.”

“Um… you have no pants on.”

You looked down to see your bare legs. “Right.”

You dropped everything and headed into your bedroom. You slipped on shorts and came back in.

“I see you ditched the dresses.”

“They’re there in the wardrobe, I just stopped wearing them.”

“What are you gonna do with them? Are you ever going to wear them again?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

“Are you seriously going over there?”

You nodded.

“She has no right to say that to Misha.”

He put up his hands. “Hell, don’t let me stop you.”

 You walked out, Jared following you out after picking up your rent. He let you lock up and you both headed down the stairs, out of the apartment complex and onto the street. You headed straight to your car.

“I won’t stop you but don’t say anything you’ll regret.”

You nodded keeping that in consideration. You slung your bag onto the passenger seat and started her up. The red mistress roared to life and settled to a purr. You slotted the tape in and played. AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ burst forth through the speakers. You turned the volume knob up high, just the way you liked it, slipped on your sunglasses, rolled the window all the way down and drove off.

By the time you got to your parents, you had changed cassettes and were nodding emphatically to Iron Maiden’s ‘The Number Of The Beast’ before you pulled up. Faces peeked round curtains, one of them would be your mother you believed. It was she came out as you were collecting your bag and unbuckling your seat belt.

“Turn that racket off. I have neighbours. Have you no shame?”

You turned, your shades still on. You smiled and turned the music down.

“Funny you should mention neighbours. Haven’t you been talking to Misha?”

She looked at you incredulous for answering back.

“Of course not.”

You tutted. “’Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.’ Isn’t that what Exodus 20:16 tells you? In other words. Liar. Liar. Pants. On. Fire. Because I know for a fact you have. I have friends mother, very good friends, and I don’t know what you’ve been saying to him, but I’m telling you now, it stops.”

Her features turned bitter.

“You cannot be here, telling me what I can or cannot do.” She pointed her finger at you.

You gave her a shit eating smile.

“Suuure I can. It’s a free country. Freedom of speech and all,” ‘Run to the Hills’ by Iron Maiden played and you tapped your palms against the wheel. “ I do love this song.” you spoke wistfully at the end.

“It’s the devils music.”

You sighed.

“Oh, mother. You really need to get outta that head of yours. It’s no more devil worship than watching Buffy.”

“I want you off my property.”

You looked at her front yard, and the sidewalk she was standing on.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t own the sidewalk you’re on, mother. I’d be surprised if you did.”

Her cheeks coloured. She didn’t like to be embarrassed.

“How could you create all those lies about Mike!” she hissed. “Now, poor Sheila is estranged from her husband and her son is going to jail. All because of you!”

You looked at her. She was turning this back on you.

“Mike’s father was a violent woman beater, which Mike learnt from and he got what was coming to him. And I don’t feel sorry for him at all. Not in the slightest. If you want to blame me for bringing out the truth, then so what. Blame me. But they were all living a lie and someone uncovered their secret and Sheila will be better off without her husband.”

“Sheila is a good friend of mine, and now you’ve turned everything upside down. You have a nerve coming here, given your certain relations to a man who’s old enough to be your father.”

You smiled, shaking your head.

“I’m not shagging my ex neighbour if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“Do you __have__  to use obscene language?”

You looked forward through the windscreen of your car. “Everyone does it mother. You did.” you spoke calmly.

“He’s corrupted you.” she whispered.

“No, mother, he saw my true potential. He helped me to become myself. He helped me out of the shell I was in. Out of the life I didn’t want.”

“He gave you a car for your birthday, in devil red. What does that say? Is that the kind of gift neighbours give who aren’t fornicating? I don’t think so,” She looked down into the car. “Have you no dignity? You even dress like a common prostitute.”

You looked down at yourself. You were wearing a simple cut off t-shirt and shorts and black flip flops. You were even wearing a bra today which was a step up.

“Well you were the one who wanted me to get married to a church man.”

“Not to a man who’s been to church the one time!”

You didn’t get a chance to retort as a car’s engine sounded and you both turned to see. You recognised the car all too well. Your mother had the leeway as she marched straight over. It took you a moment as your finger jabbed the stop button and had to cut the engine. You stepped out of your car, grabbing the keys before you forgot and sprinted the short way where you heard your mother.

You almost lost a flip flop on the short journey as you ran. You cussed and slipped it back on.

“I should have you arrested for-”

“Oh cut it out, mother, ain’t nothing you can get him arrested for.”

His eyes turned to you and you swore they widened slightly. You couldn’t get over just how blue his eyes were. But you couldn’t get weak kneed in front of your mother.

“Connie-” he started, holding his hands up.

“Don’t you Connie me. You’ve corrupted my daughter. You had the police over to my house to question me about Mike, over the absurd claims you’re making.”

“Mother! I told you to stop!” you grabbed her arm to pull her back. She jerked her arm away from your grasp. It happened quickly. Too quickly for you to comprehend. Her hand raised and came whistling down. The sound was awful as her hand connected to your cheek, your head snapping back.

Your own mother had struck you. Never before had that happened.

“You are my daughter. Remember that. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Sometimes hard discipline is needed.”

You looked at her shocked, holding a hand to your burning cheek.

You felt Misha grab your arm and pull you back. You both spoke at the same time.

“So what, you’re going to keep harassing him until he pulls out an injunction on you? Is that it?”

“Don’t you dare hit your daughter!”

Your mother didn’t answer, instead she walked back to her house. You wanted to shout something after her. You didn’t. But Misha did.

“I saved your daughter, from something she didn’t believe in.”

He had. You couldn’t deny. She opened the door and stepped inside without looking back shutting it, sealing her in her own world.

His hand slid down and held your hand. You let him. It calmed you.

“Let me get you an ice pack for that.”

You looked at him. His jaw tensed and his eyes blazed and for a second you were worried he would go right on over to your childhood home and pound on the door and tell your mother straight. He didn’t. his expression softened and you don’t know why, but it made you feel worse.

You unlinked your hand from his and his eyes turned down in sadness. Your heart gave a painful pang in your chest, and you felt a loss and inside felt slightly hollow, which you chose to ignore.

“I should go.”

“Y/N…”

You took one step away from him. Now wasn’t the time. You gave him one last look before walking back to your car.

“Please, talk to me.”

You pretended you hadn’t heard him. You pretended you hadn’t heard his low sad voice. Every step away from him made your heart lay heavy in your chest. And it hurt. It didn’t feel right. Already the tears were stinging your eyes. You wiped at them quickly. You sat in your car and started it, driving away before Misha had the chance to catch up to you. Your heart tore for leaving him behind.

You saw him in your rear view mirror, standing there, one hundred percent crestfallen.

 

You couldn’t sleep. You mind kept relaying his forlorn expression. Hopeless eyes, slumped shoulders. He was a sad puppy. All he wanted was to talk and you had bolted, scared of confronting your feelings. You sighed and rolled over. He hadn’t sent a text since and it bothered you. It was clear he was waiting on you. He had done all he could. You on the other hand, had to be brave and rise up.

At 2AM you sat up in your bed. Sleep wasn’t coming. It was inevitable. You swung your legs over the side, pulled on pajama pants, slipped on flip flops and put on your trusty jacket.

You knew this was something you had to do. You couldn’t put it off any longer. You grabbed your bag, checked your keys were in there and headed out. You made double sure your door was locked.

You started her up and pulled out into the night. Your hands gripped the wheel as a thought occurred. What if he closed the door in your face? You doubted it somehow but it was possible. The worry slipped down causing unease in your stomach turning it into anxiety.

You pulled up and killed your engine, making everything go dark. After wiping your clammy hands on your jacket, you pulled open the door and stepped out, shutting it behind you. The walk to his front door wasn’t very long at all. But it felt it, in your heart and your stomach. God this was so stupid. You had no reason to be anxious. Or nervous. Buck up. You could do this.

You pressed his doorbell. It rang loud in the quiet night. You stood there, not entirely sure what to do with yourself. A little awkward. And thinking it was kind of a bad idea. Scratch that. A stupid bad idea.

You didn’t get the chance to collect your thoughts as the light came on and the door opened.

You stood there, mouth slightly agape, heart beating tenfold. Nausea in your throat. He stood in his boxers and blue dressing gown on but not tied, shock in his tired eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep.” you got out. Your throat insanely dry. You stood there for what felt a long time, looking at him, him at you. You wanted him to say something. Do anything. Reality hit you as you remembered you were in your pajamas. You had driven to him without bothering to get dressed.

“Say something…” you whispered, desperate to not feel like a complete dope.

He reached out and pulled you in. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight. You succumbed to his hug. You needed it. He was warm and smelled good, like his favourite cologne and something that was distinctively Misha. You held on to the sides of his dressing gown, feeling the soft thick material between your fingers, your body pressed against his. His heart beat comforted you and you could feel your eyes getting heavy. He was so warm.

The door clicked shut. You pressed your forehead to his chest, just listening.  

“I messed up, Mish’.”

“Shhh.” he hushed. You looked at him.

“I did.”

“You didn’t, of course you didn’t.” he whispered, his hands reaching to hold your face.

“I,” your voice cracked and your eyes brimmed with tears. You closed your eyes, letting your face look down. His hands cradled your face and you leaned into his touch. You hitched in a breath, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you fought to get the words out.

His lips pressed softly to your forehead.

“I understand now. You were just protecting me.”

He tipped your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. “It was a hell of a long week without you. It cut me open to see your heart shattered like that. It hurt me to think you thought that,” he stroked back your hair, an action that made you close your eyes. “All I wanna do is put them back, piece by piece.”

“I love you, Misha.” you murmured thinking out loud.

“What?”

You snapped your eyes open, avoiding looking at him, heart frozen as you realized the words you had uttered. What if he didn’t feel the same way? You knew he cared for you, that didn’t mean he loved you. Your eyes flicked up. His were impossibly wide, and he looked like he had been smacked with awestruck wonderment.

“Love the way you care for me.” you covered.

He smiled. Probably the first in a week, you suspected. It was sunshine when he smiled and it filled the cracks of your heart. It made you want to smile too.

“It’s okay. I love you too.” he said soft and breathlessly, closing the space between you both.

His head dipped, his hands resting just below your ears , his thumbs stroking your cheeks. Your eyes couldn’t stop looking into his blue orbs. His lips brushed against yours and you held your breath, your eyes slipping shut and your hands lifted.

His lips were firm, yet the kiss was soft and slow, comforting, as your feelings were laid bare. You held the sides of his dressing gown, now standing on your tiptoes wanting to be just that bit taller, to be just that little bit closer.

Euphoric warmth blossomed through your body as the kiss continued. He was gentle as his lips caressed yours, a complete contrast from the time at Track.

He pulled back much too soon for liking, threaded his hand with yours, resting his forehead against yours, your breathing levelling, and together you went upstairs.

Was it official? You didn’t know. But you knew that laying next to Misha was enough. For tonight. His arm draped over your waist, as you rested your head on his chest. His hand found yours and you held it, becoming drowsy listening to the steady rhythm of his heart and the even rise and fall of his chest.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter includes sexual content.

You woke up cocooned in Misha’s incredible warmth, tangled up in sheets, mind a little fuzzy, remnants of a dream chased away upon waking. You blink slowly, a yawn escaping. Partial light filtered through, from here you could see the net curtain swaying softly from the morning summer breeze.

Misha’s light snores ceased and he stirred beside you. You turned your head and met cerulean eyes. He sent a sleepy smile your way and you returned it. His hand found yours, warm, dry, and calloused, his fingers interlaced with yours. Lips pressed to your forehead and you stayed as you were. It was simply enough.

 You were drifting off again, you could feel it, usually you were up by now, getting ready for church, eating breakfast, but now, you relaxed on a lazy Sunday morning.

Until the doorbell rang.

You groaned. You had been enjoying lying in peace, surrounded in warmth and love and now it had been disturbed. Misha carefully detached himself and you grumbled sleepily wanting him to return to bed. He chuckled, the palm of his hand stroked your hair back as his lips pressed on your forehead for the second time that morning.

“Stay. I want you to stay.” you mumbled into the sheets, your hands reaching out.

“I will. Let me see who’s at the door and I’ll be back, maybe even with some breakfast.” he held your hands for a moment, kissing one on the back of your hand, before you dropped it to the quilt.

Before closing your eyes, you let them linger on the lack of clothing he had on. His whole body was muscular and tanned and you couldn’t wait to be wrapped up in him again. He pulled on his blue dressing gown, tying it up tight and left.

You sighed and stretched your languid limbs, back arching before falling back down with a soft __puff!__. You heard the opening of the door, a soft smile on your lips. It was wiped when you heard your fathers voice.

You sat up, your ears straining to hear Misha. You heard your father clearly.

*

 

Your father wanted to talk. You didn’t know if you wanted to talk to him or not. You fidgeted, fingers touching the sheets, rubbing the material between your finger tips as you thought.

Your father had seen your car. He knew you were here. Misha hadn’t denied it, but he had defended you. He hadn’t called you and for that you were grateful. He had simply told your father you weren’t available. You knew what he wanted to talk about. He wanted to talk about Misha. Clearly he wasn’t happy about it. Your father had expressed his opinions. He didn’t like it, nor did he respect it. Misha had asked him to leave his premises.

__“I don’t want my daughter dating a man my age.”_ _

Your father was older than Misha, that you knew. But you knew what he meant. He would never bless your union. He would never come round to it. And that saddened you.

You felt a little trapped. Leaving home, you were able to live the way you wanted to live. You could breathe, but that didn’t matter when it came to Misha, because your parents were strangling you. Now you felt you couldn’t visit Misha, because they’d know you were here and come and harass him. Maybe you could get away with not using your car. It was a little ostentatious.

You wanted to not care, and it annoyed you because you did.

You wanted them to support you in your choices even if they didn’t agree but you guessed that would never happen, not if they didn’t believe in your choices or agree with them.

You were 25. You were an adult. You could make your own choices.

Your parents thought otherwise, it seemed.

The scent of bacon and waffles pulled you from your thoughts, you looked up to see Misha holding a bed tray piled with waffles, coffee, maple syrup and orange juice. He smiled and you returned it as he came to sit beside you.

“What you thinking about?”

His hand tucked hair behind your ear, tracing the lobe, stroking the soft strands in his fingertips. You leaned in to his touch and smiled before facing him.

“What are we doing, Misha?” you whispered, his fingers sliding down to your cup your jaw. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

“We’re doing nothing wrong. Just taking things slow.” he murmured.

You knew that, but it still felt like you were misbehaving. Hands clutched to his robe, your eyes closed. You were on the cusp of getting what you wanted. Be brave, you reminded yourself. Be unafraid and don’t give a damn.

You shifted and looked at him. Blue eyes swirled with desire, taking your breath away and picking up your heart rate. Misha gently lifted your face, bringing you closer. Looking in his eyes made you forget about your parents, and about any doubts you had. Your eyes flicked to the breakfast tray, then back to him. Right now you felt the thrum low in your sex. Breakfast could wait.

You set the tray on the bedside table, turned back to Misha, his hands cupped your face and his lips smashed to yours, lips caressing over yours with fervour, nipping occasionally at your lower lip with his teeth. One kiss and he had you breathless and on your back, his hands sliding up and down your body. His tongue dipped in and out of the kiss, teasing you, leaving you wanting more.

Slow. This was meant to be slow. But you didn’t care. You had waited too long for this. You weren’t about to ruin it. His leg linked with one of yours spreading them apart. A shot of electricity darted through you, straight down to your sex. You clutched his shoulders, wanting him closer, needing more.

 His lips peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His hands slid underneath your pajama tee, eliciting a moan from you as he kneaded a breast.

His warm breath was on your neck, lips brushing your skin, as you breathed heavily. He tweaked a nipple and you cried out, your back arcing slightly, body writhing underneath him, toes curling . He kissed your shoulder as he continued his play that had you begging him to touch you elsewhere.

He pushed up your t-shirt, his eyes flitting to you before his lips pressed soft kisses on your breast, sucked a nipple allowing his warm tongue to flick over, his free hand softly kneading your other breast occasionally grazing your nipple with his calloused thumb.

As soon as you lifted your legs, you felt him. Felt his heat against your moist pantied sex. He was thick and heavy and you wanted him. He groaned by your ear, the sound truly guttural.

“You should stop me.” he whispered his eyes snapping to you.

You shook your head. No. You didn’t want him to stop.

“Y/N/N…” he groaned.

“Please…I need you to touch me.” Even saying the words turned you on.

He growled and below you felt him twitch, his hand slipping from your breast, sliding over your belly, causing your stomach to flip. You held your breath and waited. He touched you over your panties, a jolt hitting your clit.

You held on to him. You could feel Misha fighting himself until his fingers moved. Your legs shook a little. The pleasure below danced wildly, leaving your empty sex clamping around nothing, making you want his fingers and cock.

It was close, but not close enough. He touched slowly, occasionally his pinky finger wondered to the edge, teasing, making you want the layer of clothing gone so he could touch your bare skin.

He slipped his pinky finger underneath your panty band, dragging his finger along a soaked fold.

“Christ…” he groaned.

Sweet carnal fire raged inside you as his thumbs hooked your panties. You lifted your ass up off the bed and he pulled them down and off, throwing them behind him.

You were naked below. The mere inevitability of him touching you had you creaming for him. He teased, brushing over your moist thighs, making you moan out for him.

Two thick digits touched your slick sex and his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his own breath coming out in a pant.

You held your breath.

He touched slowly, exploring, your soft outer lips, moving over your clit,sending arcs of electricity through your nerves. You shivered, your breath coming out in a pant. His fingers dipped slightly at your entrance and you both groaned.

 Fuck yes.

“God, you’re so wet for me.”

“Just, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, Y/N, I won’t.” he promised.

He didn’t stop.

He rubbed your clit, teased it and waves of pleasure rolled through you. He toyed with it until your inner muscles rippled and the warmth was back, growing closer and closer. You were close. You felt it. Underneath, you were aflame. And just when you were almost there, his fingers dipped again to your entrance, this time sinking them slowly inside. Your head fell back and you closed your eyes in pleasure, a long drawn out moan leaving your throat.

“Oh, Misha.”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his forearm resting just by your head. Your walls clenched around him as they adjusted. He allowed you the time you needed until he started moving.

Your hands fisted his dressing gown, gripping him tight, panting, a whimpering moan tumbling from your lips as his fingers tunnelled inside you again. He stroked the walls of your sex extremely well. Enough for your thighs quake and moisten. You arced for him again, your head falling back, eyes shutting tight as you let the pleasure build inside you.

“That’s it baby.”

Heat swamped you, tightening your gut hard and your muscles clamped down on his fingers and fluttered. His thumb rubbed your clit and sent sparks straight to your wet cunt. You widened your legs just that little bit more and felt it.

Your hand raked through his hair, tugging, holding him close as your muscles contracted hard and your orgasm crashed down making you cry out, calling his name as you milked his fingers. He rode you throughout your waves, whispering praises.

You shuddered through your last wave, your body finally relaxing on the bed. He gently exited from you and got to his knees. You couldn’t stop staring at his arousal tenting his boxers, a wet patch staining his boxer shorts. His lifted his fingers up bringing them to his mouth and tasted your natural syrup. Hie eyes closed in ecstasy, your heart skipped a beat. When his eyes opened they were black with hunger.

“God, I wanna fuck you right now.”

You wanted him to. Needed him to. You nodded, without thinking you sat up your hand tracing the plains of his stomach and teasing the band of his boxers.

You wanted to see him without his underwear on. Wanted to look at him. You had never seen one before. Only seen phallic shaped objects. His hands covered yours as he helped push the article of clothing down his strong thighs.

You reminded yourself to breath. His erect cock laid against his stomach, straining, veins bulging, tip flushed red, pulsing, a bead of fluid at the slit. He was thick, large and intimidating, his girth daunting to you. Excitement and nervousness fluttered inside your belly, at the thought of being wrapped around his cock and being so one with him, it had you biting your lip.  

You drew a line from the tip to the base with the tip of your finger, enticed, above you Misha gave a solo pant. You looked at him. His features were tight, like he was suppressing himself, his hands balled to fists, his chest rising and falling in rapid movement.

In one swift move you had your t-shirt off and on the floor, unembarrassed, completely bare to him, ready for him, wanting him to make you his. He took the hint and shucked off his dressing gown, then manoeuvred himself out of his boxers.

He laid you back, his hands spreading your legs for him. His knees coming by your inner thighs for a moment as he reached over and pulled the night stand drawer open. You looked as his hand rummaged, he looked down at you and smiled before pulling out a foiled package.

He ripped the package open and threw the empty wrapper aside as he sheathed his erection. You found it mesmerising to watch the way his hands glided the transparent casing all the way to the base.

A large hand clamped to your hip, fingers curling around the globe of your ass, sending tingles straight to your core, as he pinned you to the mattress.

You looked up at him, his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing your lips. He kissed you. Slow and sensually, making you feel the slow burn as desire swirled again.

You felt him at your folds, the lubricated head parting them, swirling over your wetness. He guided himself to your entrance. Where your heartbeat throbbed. Where you were wet, waiting and wanting.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders as he slowly slid into you. You gritted your teeth, a painful barrier forced open, as he held you down.

“Fuck.” you gritted.

His lips at your neck, jaw and lips were a salve to your fear as he sunk himself down further. You clenched around his length and he panted a gasp.

“Fuck…you’re tight.”

You lifted your legs, bending them at the knee, your thighs brushing his hips, causing him to sink deeper inside you.

After the initial discomfort as his hips sat flush with yours, he pulled back. Your fingernails dug little crescent moons in his skin and mewled as he moved.

Each slow drag of his cock against your walls was a new sensation, as was the feeling of being stretched, pulled open to accommodate and be completely filled. Pleasure sizzled, cracked and sparked with movement.

Above you, Misha was panting and sweating. You felt his breath at your neck, felt the droplets on his forehead as they rubbed against your skin.

“I’m trying so hard to control myself.”

Your body quivered. Your thighs quaked. Every passing stroke he played you. The pain receded, making way for pure bliss. You wanted him, untamed, uncontrolled, giving you what he wanted.

“Give it to me. I want it all.”

He groaned at your words. “God, you make me crazy.”

“I want you. All of you.”

He brought his knees up to your thighs, and you hooked your legs over, already feeling the intensity of the angle. Resting on his forearms, his hands gripped yours, lacing his fingers with yours, he pulled back and bottomed out inside you, striking a match.

His strokes were consistent and punishing, pulling back slowly and spearing into you rapidly, kissing you brutally, his lips sucking marks on your neck.

He repeated his action until you were a shuddering, quivering wreck beneath him, his hips leaving bruising marks on your legs as he gave you what you wanted.

He stoked the flames inside your throbbing sex, striking an invisible match, your breath coming out in short pants, you hips instinctively coming to meet his thrusts. Misha grunted with his efforts working his body hard, working you hard.

It was inevitable.

“M-Mish-Misha.” you panted as the heat swarmed and a coil tightened in your gut. You squeezed his hands.

Wild electric blue orbs snapped to yours, making your sex flutter around his cock, and you nearly lost it. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Give it to me,” he grunted his voice husky. “Don’t hold back. I want it.”

He pistoned inside of you, causing the coil to tighten and the heat to burn and spread over your body.

He slammed into you one more time. Your walls contracted hard and you were unable to stop the cataclysmic explosion. You screamed for Misha, back arcing, the tsunami waves crashing down violently.

He anchored himself, a hand gripping the pillow beside you as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, your fluttering sex milking his cock. He grunted riding you through, the sweat on his skin became one with yours. His thrusts were sloppy and and becoming less even and you felt his his cock twitch and pulse. His hips finally fell flush against yours, a hand pinned you to him, his forehead came to rest in the crook of your neck and his panting regulated.

You laid there lax, a hand gripping his, getting your breath back, Misha doing the same. He kissed your forehead and stroked back your damp-from-sweat hair back. He smiled lazily and you returned it.

“How about that breakfast now?”

You laughed and he rolled you both to your sides, where he gently removed himself from you. you pulled yourself up and saw your t-shirt all the way across the room. You looked at Misha who just shrugged and gave a cheeky smile. You shook your head.

 

Once you were snuggled in bed, you reached over and grabbed the tray, bringing it over to you. The waffles and bacon were cold and so was the coffee but you didn’t care. You bathed in your post-coital glow with Misha and ate breakfast. It still tasted good. You were hungry after working up an appetite.

You were smiling like a moron and being in Misha’s arms made you feel safe. And secure.

You made certain Misha wasn’t going to get distracted by you and decided to go head home so he could finish his commissions. You didn’t want to be the cause of unsatisfied customers. He pouted like a puppy but you were adamant and he finally let up by giving you a steamy kiss goodbye, almost starting round two.

As you drove a hollowness filled your heart and at home you sighed unsure of what to do, unsure of how to spend your time.

 

Sometime in the mid afternoon your buzzer sounded. You sighed and paused the film you were watching. You had just got to the good bit too where Elle Woods was gonna school Professor Callahan. You untucked your feet from under you, stood and padded to the receiver.

“Hello?”

“It’s your father. Let me in, please.”

Shit. He probably wanted to talk, and you knew what it was going to be about. You sighed and buzzed him in.

It didn’t take long for him to make it to your door. It felt much longer as the anxiety set in and gnawed at your stomach.

A knock sounded at your door.

You sucked in a breath and opened the door for your father.

He nodded to you and you gestured him in. He walked in and after you closed the door the words hit your ears.

“I don’t like it, Y/N. I don’t like it at all.”


End file.
